Salvation
by Lady Nogitsune
Summary: Having had to leave Ryner and too many dead comrades behind, Tiir tries to at least get the remaining children to safety. However, Gastark isn't the only country with a keen interest in their eyes, and Tiir soon finds himself where he never wanted to be - at the mercy of humans.
1. Prologue

So this is what a new fandom looks like. I didn't think I'd ever see one again from up close!

Echem. I'll just get to the point and put the longer author's note below the actual fanfic part, because otherwise I'll start rambling to try and prevent the poor little prologue from having to stand on its own two non-existent feet. I mean, it's not like it took me more than half a year to post it or anything...

Though I should probably at least say that, as the summary suggests, this fic starts shortly after Tiir has to flee from Lir/Ril at the end of episode 20.

The title is based on the words that inspired this fic:

_"Because I wanted salvation. For Tiir, for the children, (...). For the sad bearers of the Eyes of God, who have lost faith in humans."_

So yeah, this happened when I discovered that my main reaction to the premature end of the anime was, "But... but... Lafra! His (sort of) dying wish is still so far from being fulfilled!"

Uh, though in retrospect, I really don't think this is what the poor guy had in mind. Eh, but I started out with good intentions? I tried? ...Oh well.

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**Rating:** M **  
**  
**Summary: **Having had to leave Ryner and too many dead comrades behind, Tiir tries to at least get the remaining children to safety. However, Gastark isn't the only country with a keen interest in their eyes, and Tiir soon finds himself where he never wanted to be: at the mercy of humans.

**Warnings: **Screwed up power dynamics, violence, characters who eat people, characters thinking and talking about eating people (...a lot); discrimination, dehumanization and objectification. Uh, I think that's about it for now, and I guess most of that is sort of implied by "a multi-chapter fic taking place in the world of DenYuuDen, with Tiir as the main character".

Oh, also, mild (I think) spoilers for the light novels. I've only read bits and pieces of them (and even those only thanks to awesome people), but I tried to work what little information I could find about certain issues into the story. This is one of the things I'll go into more detail about below the actual fic part. Until then...

Enjoy!

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**Prologue**

.

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It was a battle he would be unable to win.

As Tiir realized this, he fell back, trying to shield the children with his body. Those two wouldn't die – he wouldn't allow it. Not while he could still fight, not while he was still breathing.

Which wouldn't be for much longer.

He knew it. He knew it, and there was nothing he could do about it. Once again he would fail them, watch helplessly as the ones who had trusted him to protect them were killed – slaughtered like the beasts they were deemed to be.

He clenched his fists: sharp fingernails impacting on skin with enough force to draw blood. The pain didn't matter, though; he barely even felt the countless wounds all over his body, some of which were more serious than others. The only thing that interested him was finding a way out of this.

He couldn't just tell the little ones to run. He had tried that before, when he had first noticed the ambush – but he had been too late, too careless, and the enemy had attacked just a moment later, leaving the children frozen in fear. Even if those two were to escape now, Tiir would probably not be able to come find them when this was over, and their chances of surviving on their own were low. They would be stranded in the middle of nowhere, far away from their brethren, and even in the improbable case that an ignorant human willing to help out stumbled upon them, it was highly likely that the truth of what they were would be discovered before they reached their destination.

It would spell their doom.

The soldiers, encouraged by his retreat, cautiously stepped closer. He snarled at them like the mindless, bloodthirsty creature they saw in him, and enjoyed the fleeting satisfaction of watching them stumble backwards, some tripping over their own feet in their haste to get away from him.

Their commander wasn't so easily intimidated, though, and neither were his elite fighters. Although they were no longer coming closer, there was no trace of fear visible in their eyes, in the way they carried themselves.

Tiir held the leader's gaze, refusing to flinch as the reality of the situation sunk in. _They weren't going to make it. _Not he himself, and not the two young ones. He might be able to turn the tables if he were to devour another one of the humans, but doing so would mean leaving the children open to attack – just for a moment, but Tiir knew it would be one moment too long.

He discarded the option.

The woman to the right of the commander, the one whose poisoned needle had struck Tiir while he had been busy dodging the first volley of arrows and rendered him unable to fight effectively, raised her arm, and when her weapon pierced his flesh, he knew that his assessment had been correct – that it was one of those accursed items, infused with a magic he couldn't devour. He almost cried out in pain, but in the end he didn't, wouldn't, and just sank to his knees with a hiss.

The little ones were crying his name, and though he thought he'd managed to yell at them to remain where they were through the pain, he couldn't stop them when they came running instead, grabbing his blood-stained robe. His attempts to pull the hook out from just beneath his shoulders remained without success, and watching as the children placed themselves between him and the half dozen arrows that were pointing at his head, he wanted to howl in despair.

He closed his eyes instead, but when he opened them again, the children were still alive.

Of course. The humans wouldn't fire. They needed them alive if they wanted to gouge out their eyes and take their powers for themselves.

Tiir hated them – hated them so much it _hurt_.

The woman in possession of the hook produced one of the abhorrent green crystals from her pocket, and Tiir felt hot panic course through him. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his legs to work, couldn't even shove the children out of harm's way. He bit his lip, and blinked back tears that he would never allow the humans to see. He wouldn't give them that pleasure.

The female magician was looking at Ren. The little boy, who used to be the most timid of the children, was glaring right back at her – brave, stubborn, unyielding. He would be the first.

There was nothing Tiir could do.

"Wait." The woman, already about to invoke the incantation, halted abruptly and turned to gaze questioningly at her leader, who didn't even seem to notice – instead, he was looking right past her. _Staring_, Tiir realized.

Had fear gotten the better of him, after all? It had taken him long enough. How foolish humans were, to not recognize a superior predator when faced with one. Tiir would have been amused, if not for the fact that under the given circumstances, the humans hardly had anything to fear from him.

They were no longer the prey.

"Is something the matter, Your Highness?" the female magician asked.

_Your Highness..._Not Gastark, then. Tiir had seen their king once, briefly, and this wasn't him. Neither was he known to have any children, or close relatives, and Tiir was fairly certain that such a title was only given to members of the royal family in most of the northern regions.

Did that mean there were more countries out hunting down his kin and stealing their eyes? The thought had Tiir shaking – whether with anger or from fear for his brethren, he didn't know.

"I... is this really necessary?" the unknown royal asked, at once the picture of hesitancy. He was young; perhaps younger than Roland's king, even. "They're just children."

"Don't be fooled, Your Highness," the female magician said. "They may look like children, but that is not what they are. You've heard the reports, and you saw what it–" her cool gaze went past the little ones and focused on Tiir– "did to Commander Narvsen. The other two are no more human. Think of them as rabid beasts. It is but a mercy to put them down while they are still young."

Tiir growled. How dare she? Filthy, ignorant _human_. What other species was there so arrogant that it would not only refuse to acknowledge its own inferiority, but presume to look down on that which could tear it apart in an instant?

"I know that they aren't human. I still don't like the thought of killing them – not when they could be just as useful to us alive. We really can't get rid of only the older one without causing the other two to go out of control?"

"It's highly unlikely, Your Highness," the woman said. "That's one reason why Gastark merely takes the monsters' Eyes rather than capturing them alive and training them, although it means they can only harness their powers once and with extremely limited control. We might not have been able to learn all the details, but it has been confirmed that making use of a live subject is to be highly discouraged. There are some rumors that Roland attempted such a thing in the past, but if those are true, then it appears the results were nothing to brag about."

"I see," the humans' leader said, sounding thoughtful. "He should be unable to move, correct?"

"Yes. I had not tested this weapon on a bearer of the Cursed Eyes before, but if it didn't work on them, we would know by now. The monster seemed very anxious to defend the offspring."

"He did, didn't he..." The young royal stepped closer, and Tiir prepared himself. One small opening, that was all he needed. While he was indeed unable to get up, he knew he hadn't lost command over his body entirely. If the human were foolish enough to come into arm's reach...

But he didn't do Tiir that favor. He stopped in a safe distance from him, about a step away from the children. Ren didn't back down, and though Tiir couldn't see his face, he was sure the boy was meeting the enemy's leader with a stubborn glare. Next to him, Karda, who feared humans more than anything else, actually moved forward an inch, determined to protect her family no matter the cost. She had always been rash, but she had never seemed so fierce.

There was a part of Tiir that was touched, proud of the brave children who considered him an older brother; but that part was nothing compared to the anger he felt at himself for not being able to live up to that honor, for having become a burden to them rather than a protector.

The shame brought by the knowledge that he would not be able to prevent their deaths.

"Don't come closer!" Karda yelled. "If you try to hurt Tiir-_niichan_, we'll kill you!" She was trying very hard to sound menacing, and yet it was painfully obvious that it was an empty threat, that she was scared and didn't know a thing about killing people. Her posture was off, and her voice was trembling.

There were humans that would have overlooked the signs thanks to the mindless fear they harbored for their kind, but not this one. He appeared startled, but certainly not shaken.

The human royal held up his palms in a gesture that was clearly supposed to seem non-threatening. "I'm not trying to hurt him. See? I'm not even holding a sword." The children exchanged glances, unsure, and the human continued, "If the two of you come without a fight, there will no longer be a reason for anyone to get hurt."

Tiir's eyes widened. He couldn't mean to...

Oh, but he did. That _bastard_.

Tiir opened his mouth to tell the little ones not to listen – he wouldn't become the reason they were turned into experiments or weapons for those humans' convenience! –, but then he bit his tongue. There was only the choice between letting them be taken alive and watching them be killed, and though Tiir wasn't sure which was worse, he wouldn't be able to bear the latter.

So he remained silent, and didn't object when the children reluctantly let themselves be taken away by three of the humans – more magicians, most likely –, who gave them a look as if _they _were the vermin here. When the children glanced over their shoulders in search for reassurance, Tiir forced himself to smile at them – the smile remained plastered onto his face until they had vanished into the darkness of the forest; then his expression quickly turned murderous.

He held the human royal's gaze while he waited for what appeared to be the last remaining mage, the female one, to take his eyes. There was no way the humans would just let him go – he had known that from the start, but he was glad that, at least, the children wouldn't know, and perhaps never find out.

It seemed he had misjudged the enemy in one important regard, though.

The human took another step forward. "I promised that no further harm would befall you, and I'm a man of my word. Your eyes are far more valuable to us where they are. So, I will make you a deal. You surrender and submit yourself to our empire, and in return, I shall ensure that those children are well cared for."

Tiir felt his fists unclench and clench again. "Why should I trust you?"

The human seemed surprised by his reply – as if he hadn't really expected an intelligible response. After a while, he said, "You may see them – one at a time – and confirm their state yourself."

Tiir maintained eye-contact for a few moments longer, but in the end, it wasn't even a choice. He lowered his head in a sign of submission, ignoring how every fiber of his being protested the action.

There was a short silence, before the human turned around and declared, "The monster has been subdued!"

Cheers broke out, but Tiir barely heard them.

He had failed them all.

.

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* * *

**Author's Note:**

...So I tried my hands on something serious for once.

Don't be fooled, though. I might have managed keep the randomness out of the prologue, but that's pretty much my limit. I can totally prove this by pointing at the next few chapters - they are already written, though I don't know when I'll post them yet because I want to make sure everything adds up (since I originally wrote this purely for my personal amusement and never really put much thought into uploading it, meaning I could have gone back and changed even important stuff in good conscience.) Anyway, the general tone of this fic_ is _supposed to be serious, but try telling that to the characters.

Speaking of which, at least for now, there will be very few characters from the actual series in this: Tiir and the kids (mostly just Tiir), and otherwise only mentions of some of the rest of the cast - like Lafra, Ene/Enne, Ryner, Ferris and Sion. This can be explained in part by the fact that quite a bit of this story takes place while almost all the more major characters are busy doing their stuff in Roland. The other reason is a bit more complicated. Basically, doing what I had in mind via any of the "human" characters from the show would either have ended in complete crack or been too angsty for my taste (or maybe just the wrong _kind_ of angst? Well, something like that, anyway). And once I started writing, I really wanted to do it like this. It's been a lot of fun so far, so I hope it works for you - especially since this story is more character than action driven.

I was really unsure about how to go about that whole crystallization thing, but it seems pretty clear from the anime that you don't _need_ the "Rock Devourer" to do it, because the thing was nowhere in sight during Ryner's first "real" encounter with people from Gastark, and in the flashback in episode 19, Kuu and her brother seem to be picking crystals up from the ground, while the Rock Devourer sucks them right in. (...Typing this made me feel sort of gross. Poor Pueka.)

For those not familiar with certain relevant contents of the **_light novels_**, a sort of **_spoilery_** and hopefully mostly complete list of things I got from there that will come up in some form eventually: Ene being the leader of the eye bearer group and the Torch Curse allowing to see her into the future as well as slowly killing her (and her existence/leader status being a secret), Tiir's very random sense of humour (like offering Ryner to bring him some humans if he doesn't want to eat dango), Tiir saying he's hated humans from day one, Tiir loathing humans so much that it totally kills the yumminess, Tiir saying that only humans lie to their own, Tiir rather half-heartedly claiming that he's not affected by what humans might have to say about him over and over again when Ene assumes otherwise and then in one line pretty much admitting that deep down he thinks he's worthless. ...Yeah.

Uh, what else?

Subtle parallels of the prologue to certain scenes in the anime are totally subtle. *nods* Oh, and I went with "Divine Eyes" instead of "God's Eyes" for the most part, because it sounded a lot less... specifically monotheistic to me. Also, I made the children's names up, since they don't seem to have any in the anime and I couldn't find anything about this being different in the novels - just in case you wondered.

That's all I can think of right now. I hope you had fun reading despite the rather dark themes! Of course, reviews are much appreciated - I'd offer you dango, but getting into trouble with Ferris this early would probably be a bad idea. Maybe a gift basket filled with afternoon naps?


	2. Into the Night

Yay, I managed to stop obsessing over details for long enough to start uploading the rest of the story!

Remind me to never again put off thinking up chapter names, though. It took me an _eternity _to make up for that. I finally decided to go with lines from songs and poems, because there has to be _some_ point to my growing DenYuuDen playlist other than giving catchy tunes a new home in my head.

Going back to edit this chapter one last time so that I could post it without feeling (too) weird about it was interesting, to say the least. I don't think I've re-watched anything as often as episodes 17-20 of DenYuuDen, but I'm still not tired of them. This fic has taught me that any scene that has Tiir in it will never be able to bore me for long, and that over-analyzing every little thing a character says and does can be a lot of fun. Well, I actually knew the second part already, but it was a nice reminder, anyway! I'm still on the fence about some things, but I _always_ am, so no point delaying this update any further.

Enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: Into the Night**

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Aside from a single soldier designated to watch him, the humans didn't pay him much mind as they set up the camp. Some men gawked at him from afar, but they soon lost interest when they realized that he wasn't going to move so much as a finger any time soon. Under different circumstances, Tiir would have at least glared at them, but he was too busy trying not to succumb to the pain to spare anything else much attention.

The hook wasn't so bad – it still hurt, but he'd had worse. Its ability to paralyze and even the fact that it had been used to leash him to a tree like some dog were far more maddening than the injury itself. His ankle, either sprained or fractured, as well as a particularly nasty gash on his back were harder to ignore; but those, too, were bearable. It was the poison that made him feel like his intestines were on fire, that had him all but writhing in agony.

There was no way he would allow himself to scream or even just gasp for air, though, no matter how much of an effort it took. It didn't bother him to be called a monster by the human scum, but he was not going to provide entertainment for his enemies by letting them see the full extent of his suffering. The poison wouldn't kill him – they would have either given him the antidote or taken his eyes by now if they thought it might. He just needed to grit his teeth and wait for its effects to lessen.

But gods, it _hurt_.

He was so distracted trying not to make a sound that he almost didn't notice the enemy's leader approach him.

The man turned to the soldier – probably a high-ranking officer – standing guard. "Anything I should be aware of?"

"Nothing, Your Highness. The monster hasn't moved – which I suppose isn't very surprising, considering it still has that thing stuck in its shoulder."

The royal nodded, then glanced at Tiir, who tried for a cold stare, but barely managed to keep his eyes open through the haze.

"He looks miserable."

The soldier snorted. "I'd look miserable, too, if Lymeia had turned me into her pincushion. I swear that woman gives me the creeps sometimes. So did her teacher, for the matter. Don't get me wrong, Garlon was a great man, but you have to admit: he could be one heck of a mean bastard."

"Tell me about it. I used to have nightmares about him when I was a child." The royal stepped closer to Tiir, and this time, if he tried, there was a chance Tiir would be able to grab and devour him before any of the humans had the time to react.

However, he didn't know if he would be able to get rid of the hook even after absorbing a life, and the probability of him being able to find the children after all these hours was low. He had no qualms about risking his own life for even the most minuscule chance at an escape, but he would never endanger his family so carelessly.

"What are you doing, Your Highness?" the soldier asked, sounding alarmed.

"What does it look like? Even if it's the non-lethal version, Lymeia's poison doesn't wear off for at least a day when left alone, and until then, it tends to get worse rather than better. It would be rather cruel to leave him like this."

"It's just a beast!"

"Well, yes, but have you ever been _hit_ by one of those needles? I wouldn't do that to my _dog_."

"You also tried to feed your dog cake under the table all the time when you thought your mother wasn't looking, until you were told that it was not healthy for the animal. You can see why I find the comparison rather worrying. And let's not forget that your dog never went around killing people."

"No, he just urinated on my sister's favorite dress, and then _she _went around killing people. That priest from Runa? Yeah, well, Mother actually intended to send him back in dishonor, not in pieces." The young royal took another step forward, but then paused, eyeing Tiir rather strangely. "You don't bite, do you?" he asked.

"It _eats _people," the guard said.

"Good point. Well, my sister bit me once – don't ask –, and she says I taste horrible, so do us both a favor and keep your teeth to yourself, would you? Aside from spouting nonsense and digging his own grave by doing so, the priest from Runa also said that fasting is a delight for the soul! ...You do have a soul, right? Anyway, diets can be healthy!"

"The heavens help me, my Prince has gone mad."

"I've _always _been mad. It runs in the family, but don't tell my mother I said that – it's a state secret." The prince pulled a flask from his belt and crouched down next to Tiir. "Lymeia is the only one carrying the proper antidote with her," he explained while opening the small bottle, "but this should dull the poison's effects, if nothing else." He put the flask to Tiir's mouth.

Tiir turned his head away.

"It's nothing bad. See?" The human took a gulp himself to prove his point. "Just a herbal mixture I have with me in case there are any accidents and Lymeia isn't in a position to take care of them." He held the bottle out to Tiir again.

This time, Tiir didn't turn from it, but only to fix the man in front of him with an icy glare. "I don't need your pity, _human_." He made sure to accentuate the last word in such a way that it would sufficiently convey the sentiment behind it.

"Watch your tongue!" the guard snapped at him, but the prince merely tilted his head to the side.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you? I could be asleep and I would still be able to tell that you're in so much pain you can barely think straight." He paused. "I could just force it down your throat, you know?" Putting the bottle to Tiir's mouth once more, he waited.

At first, Tiir didn't move, but ultimately, he realized that he there wasn't any way for him to refuse. The human's threat was very real, and Tiir didn't intend to let himself be humiliated like that.

Slowly, he closed his lips around the opening of the flask. The human tilted the bottle upwards slightly, and Tiir took a reluctant sip of the liquid inside. It didn't taste horrible – somewhat like chamomile, if a little bitter. It wasn't until he had gulped down half the flask's contents that he realized how thirsty he had been. He froze, and then tore his mouth from the bottle so fast as if it had burned him.

How _pathetic_.

The human didn't bother to mock him, though. "You should be able to breathe more easily within a few minutes. We'll remove the hook once the children have arrived at their designated location – it could take a few days until we get word from there, so if you want something against the pain until then, tell me. Lymeia said you won't die, but I don't know much about the algesia of monsters."

Tiir remained silent.

"I guess you just want to be left alone, huh? Well, all right. I'll be back later. If there's anything wrong, just let Arsan over there know." He nodded towards the guard. "We wouldn't want you losing consciousness or worse, right?" This time, the human didn't wait for an answer and simply returned to the camp.

Tiir was glad to be able to go back to focusing on ignoring the pain, but as it turned out, the human had spoken the truth regarding the poison. It wasn't even half an hour before he noticed that the burning sensation had disappeared almost entirely, leaving him weak and tired, but lucid.

He thought that he would actually be able to catch some sleep now if he tried, despite the uncomfortable position he was in, but he didn't test his theory. Too many enemies, not enough incentive. With Ren and Karda in those humans' hands, there was nothing he would be able to accomplish at this instance even if he were fully recovered.

He spent the night wondering if the children were still together, at least, and hoping against hope that they were really unharmed.

x x x

When morning came, the guards were exchanged. The female magician replaced the soldier, and though he shouldn't have cared, Tiir found that he didn't like it. The soldier had largely ignored him, merely watching him out of the corner of his eyes, but the magician was looking directly at him with cold, despising eyes. It was the kind of gaze the little ones probably had to endure at this moment, wherever they were, and the desire to tear the abominable woman apart was so great that having to suppress it was almost more painful than the poison had been.

Around noon, the prince returned to check up on him as he had said he would.

"Nothing of interest," the magician standing guard said once asked to give a report. "According to Admiral Arsan, it has been awake all night, but that was to be expected. It's probably waiting for an opportunity to escape. I know you are planning to remove the hook eventually, but if you want my advice, I don't think it is a wise idea. It might decide to cut its losses and abandon the offspring after all."

Oh yes, Tiir wanted to rip off her head and bathe in her blood. He didn't even particularly feel like _eating _her.

Who did she think she was to even _suggest _he would betray his brethren? Only humans turned on their own kind.

"He was willing to die for them – surely he won't suddenly change his mind now."

"Who knows what a monster thinks? Releasing it would be a risk to every single man and woman here."

"Well, he's not much use to us bound, is he? If there are any problems, I fully trust that you will be able to take care of them – your abilities are outstanding, after all." The woman scoffed. "That reminds me...," the prince continued. "What do we feed him? I suppose there are some prisoners we could spare back home, but to be honest, I'd rather not..."

"Don't be silly. It eats magic, too. There is no need for you to go against your delicate sensibilities."

"Was that an insult?"

"Yes." A pause. "Though to be truthful, our information on this matter is limited. We know it uses human flesh and magic to heal itself and increase its power, but it's possible that it requires less... outlandish food aside from that."

"Huh. Well, only one way to find out, right?" The man turned to Tiir. "Hey! Do you happen to eat non-magical food that doesn't try to run from you screaming, too?

Tiir thought about ignoring the ridiculous human, but it had been a direct question, and he had agreed to cooperate, hadn't he? This would be a foolish thing to endanger the little ones over.

"Yes," he said, simply. Thinking about it, he wouldn't be much use to the children, anyway, if he starved to death here – it was highly unlikely that he would get to consume any significant amount of magic or human meat in the near future, let alone enough to sustain him.

He was only glad that the metabolism of those who possessed the Iino Doue considerably differed from that of humans and even other bearers of the Divine Eyes, or this whole thing would have been even more degrading.

The human nodded once in acknowledgment and returned his attention to the magician. "I'll go get him something – I don't think any of the soldiers would want to do it."

"No, really? I wonder why monster feeding duty does not look particularly attractive to most people. I should probably offer, but I know how much my Prince enjoys taking care of his pets."

"He's not a dog, you know."

"Oh, good. Admiral Arsan was worried you might not be able to tell the difference, and I was beginning to think that he might be right."

A soft snort. "I'll be right back."

"Suit yourself."

It was only a few minutes before the prince returned, a bowl of soup and a piece of bread in hand.

"Why not get it some of the wine, too?"

The young royal rolled his eyes at the snide comment and went over to Tiir.

Crouching down next to him, the human said, "All right, judging from your reaction last time, I suppose this will be hurting your pride quite a bit, but let's try not to make a big deal out of it. The food is good, at least... even if it won't try to run from you screaming. You get used to it."

Tiir snorted.

The man stared at him, perplexed. "Was that... a sound of amusement? You've got a sense of humor?"

"Don't flatter yourself, human."

"But, but... you as good as laughed at my joke! Not even my own sister laughs at my jokes."

"It's a monster all right," the female magician said.

Tiir refused to acknowledge the idiocy. After a while, the human dropped his peculiar antics and held the spoon out to him. "It's some sort of mushroom soup. I have no idea what exactly it contains, but the cook did one hell of a job with it, that's for sure."

Tiir tried the dish, and had to admit that it was true. The last time he'd had something this good had been the evening before...

Tiir shut down that process of thought before it could go any further.

"Is something the matter?" the human asked, and Tiir nearly went for his throat despite being almost entirely incapable of moving. "Whoa," the prince said when he noticed the look Tiir was giving him. "The soup can't be that bad, can it?" A short pause. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Tiir said, barely managing not to growl the word. The human gave him one more confused look, but then he shrugged and went back to his task.

Tiir allowed his captor to feed him the entire contents of the bowl, and didn't even protest eating the bread out of his hand. He just wanted this to be over and done with so that he could mourn his friends in peace.

Once the human had left, Tiir balled his fists. Pueka... he hadn't known her for long, but whenever he hadn't been out looking for more bearers of the Divine Eyes stuck amongst humans, he had spent the evenings with her, cooking for the children. Even though she spoke little, she'd been a very warm person, more concerned about other people's suffering than her own and cautiously excited about the prospect of meeting the rest of their comrades, as well as the opportunity to learn spells she could protect her loved ones with.

She hadn't deserved such a death; none of them had.

And Lafra – kind, selfless, loyal Lafra. He had never been much of a fighter, but in the end, he had died trying to save his family, and the woman he'd loved.

The woman who had been killed anyway.

Tiir closed his eyes. He should have protected her, protected them all, but instead, he had just barely managed to stay alive himself – if not for Ryner, every single one of them would have died that night.

How helpless was he, how _weak_, that he could not even stop a single human from massacring those dear to him?

It was his fault that they were dead almost as much as it was Gastark's.

"You look awfully down."

Tiir glanced up, startled, at the human prince who apparently had been gone for only a few minutes.

"Is it because of the children?" the man asked. "I promise they are perfectly safe. As long as you stick to our deal, no one will harm even one hair on their heads, and nothing will be done that would be likely to trigger them." When Tiir didn't react, he continued, "Or do your wounds hurt? I could take a look at them, if you'd like."

"Why do you care?" Tiir snapped.

The human shrugged. "I don't like upsetting people... or non-people, I suppose. Seeing you look so desolate makes me feel guilty. I can't let you go, but if there's anything else that might help, I would be more than willing to listen."

_Guilty._ He was making a human feel _guilty_. That certainly was a first.

He really must look pathetic.

"There isn't," he ground out.

The human regarded him for a moment longer – then he sighed and sat down on the ground next to him. "Man, you really know how to make a guy feel bad about himself. All right, go ahead and wallow in your misery. I won't bother you."

Tiir just stared at him, stupefied. What was that human doing?

"Your Highness," the guard said. It seemed the soldier from before had once more traded places with the magician while Tiir had been distracted by his grief. "_Please _tell me you are not trying to cheer up the monster."

"I'm not trying to do _anything_. I just happen to enjoy the great view this spot provides."

"You can barely make out the encampment from here."

"Exactly – pure and unadulterated nature wherever I look!"

"Right."

"Why don't you go and take a break? I'll watch him." The guard hesitated. "Come on – I promise not to feed him any cake."

The soldier rolled his eyes at that, but finally relented. When he was gone, the prince stretched languidly and let himself fall backwards onto the soil.

Tiir was... nonplussed. He resisted at first, but as time continued to pass without the human moving or talking, he eventually allowed himself to ask the question that had been lying at the tip of his tongue for what felt like hours, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm watching the clouds."

"The... clouds?" Was this human not going to make _any _sense?

"Yes." The man sat up. "See that thick one there, next to the really big tree? It looks like a dragon."

Tiir could have informed him that there were a lot of thick clouds and 'really big' trees in that direction, but he spotted the one the human was probably talking about easily enough.

It looked nothing like a dragon.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was telling the human so.

"But look! It even has wings!"

"There are animals besides dragons that have wings," Tiir felt compelled to point out.

"You think it looks like a bird?"

"...No."

"Then it's a dragon!"

"You're quite simple-minded."

"Is it just me, or is everyone making fun of me today?"

Becoming aware of what was happening, Tiir clamped his mouth shut: he was not going to have a chat with the enemy about _clouds_. The human apparently realized this and left not much later, but as he watched him go, Tiir was appalled to find that he actually felt a little better.

Unfortunately, it was not the last he saw of the prince. The man would come by every few hours and talk about inane things, as if Tiir actually cared about which tree he thought looked most impressive or what breed of horse was his favorite. He never replied after that first time when the human had caught him off-guard, but it didn't seem to matter. The man just kept rambling.

Well, Tiir thought bitterly. Humans always did like hearing themselves talk.

The following day, after one of his tirades, the prince suddenly said, "I've been thinking. You are born from humans, right?"

It was an easy enough question to answer. "Yes."

"Then why do you feed on their flesh? Did you eat your mother, too?"

Tiir could tell that the last part had not been meant seriously, so he just kept silent.

Not surprisingly, the human turned to stare at him. Tiir half-expected him to jump up and cry 'monster!' in disgust – even his own kind sometimes was uncomfortable with the Iino Doue's time of awakening –, but he just grimaced instead. "Whoa. That's... yeah. How old were you?" The human looked rather nauseated, but there was also what seemed to be genuine curiosity in his voice.

Tiir, still not sure whether he was being _ordered _to talk, decided to play it safe. He didn't have anything to lose from answering – as long as the humans didn't decide that he was too dangerous to keep around, at least, but they already knew that he would devour them if he could. "It was shortly before I would have been... born."

"Before you were born?" The human seemed more bewildered than disgusted now. "How did you even survive on your own?"

This time, Tiir just shrugged.

The prince looked like something had just occurred to him. "Those children... they don't eat humans, do they?"

"No," Tiir said, trying not to sound panicked. _Stupid. _The last thing he needed was the human getting ideas. "They both possess the Alpha Stigma," he explained as calmly as he could, "not the Iino Doue."

"Oh." A pause. "Iino Doue?"

Tiir shot the human a look. "Don't you know _anything_?"

The prince shrugged. "It's Lymeia who is the expert on these things. She was one of those who infiltrated Gastark, and the only one who came back alive. I suppose her parentage made things easier – her father was from around there, and as you've probably noticed, she's inherited the peach-colored hair. Anyway, she gave a report to my mother, and the Council as well as a few of our magicians have been made aware of what she discovered, but I haven't had the time to concern myself with the details."

"I see," Tiir said. At least his captors didn't seem to be on friendly terms with Gastark – he didn't know what he would have done if they were. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "The children aren't a threat to you. They have never killed anyone."

"I understand. Don't worry, they won't be harmed."

Tiir closed his eye. The plea behind his words must have been painfully obvious, for the human to not even feel the need to contradict him by bringing up the Alpha Stigma and claiming that the children couldn't be farther from not being a danger to him and his kind. "What are you going to do with them?"

"Nothing. We are detaining them merely to ensure your cooperation. Maybe we could make use of their powers when they are older, but unless my mother decrees otherwise, they won't be forced to undergo any kind of military training at this point." A grin. "Provided they aren't as horrible worrywarts as you, they'll be just fine."

Tiir knew he shouldn't believe the words of a human, but he _wanted _them to be true, and so he allowed himself to relax a little.

His captor smiled, and Tiir once more wondered why the man would even give a damn.

x x x

On the evening of the next day, the message arrived that the children had indeed reached their destination safely, and the human prince removed the hook like he had said he would. Tiir refused herbs to reduce the pain, and while he couldn't say it was a pleasant experience to have the thing pulled out of him, he was just glad to be finally able to move again. The knowledge that there was nothing physically stopping him any longer from devouring the infuriating half-Gastark woman and annihilating the entire human camp was comforting, if ultimately void.

"You're sure he won't bleed to death?" the prince asked once the weapon was gone from Tiir's flesh, leaving behind a wound that looked worse than it felt.

"Yes," the magician said. "It just needs some _food _to regenerate itself. I suggest to wait, though. The soldiers will be anxious enough with an injured monster running around, never mind a healed one, and we need them alert at the very least until we have crossed the border. I'm not planning to depend on an untrained pet for my safety, and I dare say that the rest of the squad would be no more happy with such a decision."

"I expected as much," the prince said and turned to Tiir. "Come on. I'll at least take care of your wounds the old-fashioned way."

Tiir narrowed his eyes. "Don't concern yourself." Here he was, unrestrained, able to rip apart every single one of them, and instead, he was sitting at the human trash's feet, all but waiting for orders.

Untrained _pet _indeed.

"You're not getting stubborn again, are you? You obviously need that to get bandaged up."

"I don't _need _anything from a lowly human. You have what you wanted, so why don't you just go and mind your own business now?"

The magician favored him with a look of utter disgust. "You should address your master with more respect, monster. We only need one of those brats alive, and we require neither to be in good health." Her eyes were cold, merciless. "There is only one thing standing between them and Salea's research facilities, and I would advice you to lick that person's boots, not spit on them."

Tiir felt his blood freeze in his veins. He hated her, wanted to tear her apart, but she was right, and the reality of the situation hit him with full force. Under the given circumstances, his pride wasn't worth anything. He _should _be groveling. If there was even the slightest chance that it would help the little ones, that was all the reason he needed.

Still kneeling, he lowered his head.

"Lymeia," the prince said with a sigh. "That was unnecessary."

"I respectfully disagree."

The man mumbled something unintelligible and stepped over to him. "Just come," he said, sounding almost resigned.

This time, Tiir obeyed. Getting up was harder than he had thought it would be, and as he had guessed, putting weight on his ankle was almost impossible. It was humiliating, but he wordlessly hobbled after the man, following him to the small river the camp had been set up next to.

"Sit down," the human said, gesturing towards a rock that looked relatively dry and clean. Tiir did as he had been bidden. "You could just have said that you injured your foot instead of riling up Lymeia, you know?" When he didn't get a reaction, the prince sighed. "All right, just... tell me where it hurts, will you?"

After having pressed a kerchief to the wound left by the hook and told him to keep it in place, the prince slowly took off Tiir's left shoe and sock, before gently gripping his ankle. Tiir was astonished by the care he exerted, but didn't inquire as to the reason for it.

"Here?" the human asked.

"Yes."

A nod. "The foot doesn't look good, but I don't think it's broken. Just hold it into the water for now."

As Tiir changed positions to follow the instruction, the human got up. "All right, on to your shoulder."

Tiir didn't wait for orders to disrobe, but simply freed his chest. The human cleaned his injuries – first the one on his back, which he took one look at and cursed – with alcohol and the area around them with water taken from the river, and then proceeded to bandage them. Tiir grew more and more surprised at the man's consideration – every time he did something, he would first ask if it would be all right, whether it was to disinfect a wound or touch his captive's neck.

While Tiir wouldn't have said 'no', anyway, after what had transpired not even half an hour ago, he had to admit that the questions made the whole thing much more bearable than it could have been, although he was still far from comfortable: he could ignore the pain of the alcohol coming into contact with his wounds easily enough, but he felt exposed, vulnerable, and having the human's hand on his nape didn't help.

That was where it paused when the last open wound was almost dressed. "What Lymeia said was uncalled for. There is no need for you to feign deference – it actually makes me uneasy when someone hides their true emotions. And I honestly don't feel any desire to bring suffering upon mere children, human or not, so as long as you follow orders when it matters, they are in no danger." The prince paused. "I'll tell you if you are about to step too far out of line. You won't invite harm upon them by accident."

"Why?" A single word, spoken so softly it was almost inaudible even to Tiir himself.

"Because," the human said slowly, as if he was thinking about the answer himself, "it's common decency. You might not be human, but that's no reason to treat you like..."

"A monster?" Tiir supplied, his voice filled with scorn.

"...I suppose. I don't have any interest in making you miserable." Having said that, the human retracted his hand. "There, done."

Tiir rotated his shoulder experimentally, and found that despite applying noticeable pressure to the injury itself, the bandage barely inhibited the movement. "You are a healer?"

The human gave a short, startled laugh. "No, but I used to train as one. I'm afraid I didn't get very far, though I suppose it's enough for injuries like these."

Tiir glanced at the man. "Used to?"

"Yes. When my sister forfeited her right to the throne, it was no longer suitable for me to pursue that kind of occupation – I knew that when I agreed to become Crown Prince. I suppose I really am half-assed about everything I do." The human didn't seem terribly bothered by this self-assessment. "Well, let me bandage your ankle now and then we can get back to the camp and grab some food. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Tiir pulled his foot from the cool water and let the man do as he pleased. Hunger, at least, was something he could understand, though the kind of hunger he himself was experiencing was a different, darker one. It took all his self-control to not activate his Iino Doue and ascertain which part of this human would be the most delectable.

When the last of his injuries had been taken care of, Tiir allowed the human to help him up, though he refused to use him as a crutch like the man had offered. He still didn't understand the concern.

"Wait here," the prince said once Tiir had sat down next to the tree that he had been chained to before. "I'll get you something."

"Shouldn't you stay with your soldiers?"

The human looked at him in surprise for a second before shaking his head. "They trust me this much, at least. In fact, they may very well feel safer if I stick with you, and it's not like there's anyone else volunteering. Arsan needs _some_ sleep, and Lymeia would be too tempted to ruin all my hard work by putting the hook right back in. I imagine being around her wouldn't lift _your _mood, either."

Tiir just regarded the prince in silence.

"I'll be right back," the man said and turned.

He was a strange human, Tiir decided as he watched him go. Confusing, and infuriatingly so.

He was aware of the magician watching him out of the shadows of the trees, but decided not to pay her any mind and simply leaned against the broad trunk in his back. He was no longer hurting all over, but he hadn't slept in days, and fatigue was beginning to take its toll.

Maybe he should have gotten some proper rest, after all.

As usual, the human returned after only a few minutes. "Here," he said, handing Tiir some bread and a bowl filled with black and red berries, while retaining one for himself. "Since the preparations for our departure are almost done, it's fairly plain, but I'm told it's edible." As he said this, he eyed his own bowl rather sceptically.

The human sat down in front of him, and they ate in silence. The food was acceptable – the bread was hard and the berries a little sour, but Tiir hadn't expected to receive a warm meal from his captors every day, and he doubted that he would be offered one again any time soon.

"Do you think you can manage marching until nightfall?"

Tiir wondered what the human would do if he said no, but decided to opt for the most honest answer instead. "I'll try."

"All right. You'll be staying with me, so if it becomes too much, just say so."

"And then what?"

A grin. "I won't get Lymeia to carry you, if that's what you're worried about." When he realized that Tiir was not amused by his joke, the prince said in a more serious tone, "We'll figure something out. Just don't push yourself – it won't help if you make your injuries worse. Your ankle especially will probably not appreciate _any _strain, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

As it turned out, they didn't have to wait for very long. After barely two hours, Tiir was already more stumbling than walking. Even the worried glances from the soldiers had stopped at one point, and he couldn't even say he was surprised – they would hardly recognize something that dragged itself after their prince like a crippled dog after its master as a threat.

Tiir was past the point of caring, though. It hadn't even been half a day since he had decided that he would swallow his pride and hatred and endure whatever humiliation necessary from those humans, and he wasn't about to change his mind now.

He had something to protect.

After another two hours, the human prince took pity on him. It wasn't dark yet, but it soon would be, and apparently, that was good enough.

"You look dead on your feet," the man said once the soldiers were busy preparing for the night. He helped Tiir sit down, and though he hadn't asked for the assistance, Tiir didn't protest it. Neither did he refuse the canteen filled with water when it was offered to him. "I forgot that you hadn't slept at all. I thought maybe it was normal for... your kind... at first, but I suppose that's not the case, huh?"

Not sure if the human expected a reply, Tiir said, "No."

"Then why _don't _you sleep?"

Tiir gave a measured shrug. "I don't feel like it."

"Well," the human said slowly. "I suppose I wouldn't sleep too well, either, if I was surrounded by enemies." He gave Tiir a contemplating look before asking, "That's the problem, isn't it?"

Tiir regarded him, taking care to keep his face expressionless. "Maybe."

The human ran a hand through his hair in what appeared to be frustration. "Talking to you feels way too much like pulling teeth, you know?" He shook his head. "All right, let's do it like this: you close your eyes and at least _try _to get some sleep, and I'll just keep sitting here, making sure that Lymeia doesn't stick any needles in you while you rest. I realize that I classify as an enemy, too, but you have my word that I won't so much as poke you while you're out – if that's worth anything."

It wasn't – or at least, it shouldn't have been. And yet, Tiir found that he felt significantly less on edge with the royal right beside him than with the magician or even the soldier standing several feet away.

He didn't tell the human that, but once the prince had settled down next to him and was staring at the sky – something the man seemed very fond of doing for some reason –, he did close his eyes.

He was asleep before he knew it.

.

.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So. Meet Second Main Character.

Obviously, he and Tiir are going to get along fine! ...By some standard of "getting along fine" that doesn't exclude coercion, homicidal thoughts and severe prejudice.

...I'm sure Lafra doesn't hate me?

Er, I should probably add randomness to the warnings... and epithets. Because neither will go away any time soon. I blame Tiir! Well, maybe not for the randomness, but he absolutely refused to give a cake about the names of _humans_. It's not like they're people or anything. On the bright side, the epithets in question are hopefully all non-ridiculous, relatively plain ones, and it should always be obvious who the text is referring to. If not, or if anything else seems off, just pm me or mention it in a comment if you have the time and I'll try to fix the problem!

I had some characterization troubles, seeing how for the most part, Tiir doesn't seem very, eh, _stable_ around "humans" in the anime. I mean, in episode 17, one moment he's like, "I'll now ignore you because I have important stuff to do," and when _for some reason_ no one else present gives a damn about his schedule, a few seconds later it's, "Yay, mocking humans and killing them is fun!" Getting that little extra "meal" from Claugh actually seemed to make it worse. So then he goes on to meet Ryner and Ferris, and since he's not sure which one is the human, better not risk talking to one civilly and just attack both! The only times Tiir is his "usual" calm self around humans in the show are when he's busy eating dango and trying to cheer up Ryner, and - more or less - when he has to prevent said humans from killing his comrades, which is one reason why I was extremely torn on how to write him in this particular situation. I hope what I eventually went with makes sense - my interpretation of how he'd act was mostly based on the idea that he's _really_ not used to being around humans unless he's killing them or can pretend they don't exist.

Salea is purely made up and in no way canon, in case you ever doubted it. Same for that Rule Fragment - though you never know, I'm still hoping for one that is a dango, and if that happens, I'm sure there is a Rule Fragment for _everything_.

About the chapter title: the words "into the night" appear both in "Kings and Queens" by 30 Seconds to Mars and "The Night" by Disturbed... uh, and probably in a lot of other songs, but whatever. Kings and Queens has been on my DenYuuDen playlist since before I realized I had one, but I only recently noticed that The Night works pretty well for Tiir, and along with the fact that there _also_ exists an interesting song called "Into the Nothing" by Breaking Benjamin, that sort of settled the issue of what to name this chapter.

(I actually used to call this "In Which Tiir Wants to Angst in Peace but No One Will Let Him" in my head, but then I realized that if I alternate "angst" with "fantasize about killing people", that would describe about half of this fic. Yep, I'm sure Lafra doesn't hate me.)

So yeah, I hope you enjoyed this chapter more than Tiir did!


	3. Darkest Hour

So... I'll just pretend it didn't take me_ a_ _month_ to post this chapter. It wouldn't be so sad if the editing process hadn't looked somewhat like this:

1. Change a few words.

2. Change them back.

3. Sometimes change them back _again_, sometimes not.

4. Add a line or two here and there the day before posting the chapter. Be really proud of actually having _done_ something.

5. Look back at steps 1-3 and the last five weeks or so and headdesk.

In my defense, this chapter is about 2000 words longer than the last one, so it makes sense that it would need some extra attention! ...Right? (So a certain person won't be sending Ferris after me... right? Right!)

Please excuse the random fairy tale references in this one. I just couldn't resist.

...Not that I tried to.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Darkest Hour  
**

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.**  
**

Tiir's ankle had gotten a lot better over night, and though it was still red and swollen, he wasn't limping nearly as obviously anymore. He felt that a bandage was no longer necessary, but the human insisted, and while the man had claimed that he had nothing to lose from talking back to him, Tiir wasn't going to push him.

They marched from dawn till dusk with only the occasional break for meals and the opportunity to take a few sips of water in peace, and the moon had just appeared on the horizon when they finally set foot on Salean soil. It was a country Tiir had only crossed through once before, and there was only so much he knew about it.

Not that he thought there was much _to _know. As far as he could tell, it was a fairly mediocre country in every way: located in the North, but barely and often associated with the Central Continent instead. Not so small that it would go down in a war easily, but nowhere near large enough to keep up with Geihlficlant or an unscathed Stohl for long in the case of conflict. It was a fairly wealthy nation, famous for its swift and fearless war horses, though on a battlefield dominated by magicians, they weren't much more than a symbol of prestige.

Salea's magic was average at best, but the country's old-fashioned ways were its greatest strength as well as its biggest weakness. It was said that they had poisons at their disposal other nations had only heard of in rumors, making them highly valued as a supplier of assassins, and much like was the case in Runa, which they apparently shared some history with, their monarch's authority was absolute, her decisions nearly beyond reproach – at the very least, it was assumed that no one in Salea would challenge their sovereign during a time of crisis or risk a civil war; though of course, humans were too unpredictable and their allegiances too fickle for anyone to be able to know for sure. As the country held up a strict policy of isolation and had few friends and no formal allies, it was considered backward and potentially hostile even by most humans.

All in all, it was the kind of place Gastark would already have trampled had they believed it to be of any strategic value. Still, it was only a matter of time.

When the camp was set up that night, it was with an air of anticipation. Clearly, the soldiers were all eager to return to their homes.

Their light-heartedness annoyed Tiir, who just felt apprehension.

However, he forgot about his worries for a moment when the prince, true to his word, fired magic at him under the watchful eye of the half-Gastark woman. Tiir had been mildly surprised to learn that he was a mage, but he supposed he should have guessed. Considering how fragile humans were, it made sense that a royal who went into battle would have been trained at least a little in that area. He wasn't a powerful or particularly skilled magician, but after such a long time without _nourishment_, that hardly mattered. Tiir enjoyed the thrill that always came with feeding, and the healing of his wounds was but a pleasant bonus.

It wasn't enough of a meal to fill him with power or even just to sate him, but it was enough to make him feel _alive_.

The human prince watched him, looking petrified, and Tiir stopped himself short of shooting him a predatory smile.

Remembering what a magnificently Bad Idea that would be and why, he deactivated the Iino Doue with some effort, ignoring the deep sense of dissatisfaction that came with doing so, and shutting off the part of him that told him to _killdevourkillkillkill the inferior human_.

He had expected all kinds of reactions, but of course, the peculiar prince had to defy them all.

Still gazing at him, the human said, "Red suits you."

It was Tiir's time to stare. "What?"

Breaking out of his daze, the prince shrugged. "It was the first thing that came to mind. Black hair, pale skin, red eyes – it's like... Snow White or something."

Tiir choked.

"...That was a really stupid comparison, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Obviously.

What was _wrong _with this human?

"I thought so. What would that make me, anyway? The Evil Queen?"

Tiir didn't bother to reply to that, but the female magician chose this point to speak up, "A dwarf."

The prince looked at her in silence for a moment. "If that was a jab at my height," he finally said, "let me point out that it is not me who is small, it is you who is a freaking _giant_."

"Being a head taller than average hardly makes one a giant."

"Well, neither does being a head shorter than average make one a dwarf!"

"I respectfully disagree."

"If you insist to keep using that phrase, at least have the modesty to replace the 'respectfully' with something that is _less of a lie_."

"As my Prince wishes: I contemptuously disagree. Now if you are done admiring your pet, Admiral Arsan humbly requests your presence."

"Arsan? Why?"

"I'm afraid you will have to ask him that yourself." The prince glanced at Tiir, and the woman added, "I shall look after it for you until you are done."

The man hesitated. "You're not going to test some freaky new kind of poison on him, are you?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not going to test 'some freaky new kind of poison' on it. You'll get your pet back in one piece."

"Would you stop calling him that?"

"What else would you have me call it? 'Snow White'?"

"...You won't ever let me live that down, will you?"

"No, I won't. Now shoo, dwarf, to your mines."

"I'm sure there is a law somewhere against saying _that _to the Crown Prince."

"Probably, but I'm the Wicked Witch. The law trembles before my shiny apples."

"I swear you're creepy when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk, I just can't get over the fact that you made that comparison."

"And I can _never _tell whether you are being serious or messing with me, so I won't even try. Just... don't do anything strange to him."

"I won't comment on how that sounded if you _get moving _now."

"Right." The prince pivoted, took two hesitant steps... and then practically fled.

The moment he was out of sight, the woman turned to Tiir.

"Now listen, monster," she said. Tiir regarded her through narrowed eyes. "My Prince has obviously taking a liking to you, and you have probably noticed that he is reluctant to bring you to heel as he should. However, if you seek to take advantage of his leniency and attempt to harm him in any way, then regardless of how His Highness feels about the matter, I will hunt down those brats and make sure you never again even _think _about sticking so much as a toe out of line. I won't kill them, but you will wish I had. Is that clear?"

Tiir was livid. Halfway through her speech, he had turned on his Iino Doue, but the magician didn't appear fazed – neither by his eyes themselves nor by the murderous look he was giving her. She was waiting for a reply, and her body language and facial expression declared that she _would _get one.

Knowing that nothing of what she had said had been empty talk, Tiir was not going to deny it to her. "Yes," he said, his tone that of a subdued snarl.

"Good boy." Tiir balled his fists, but let his eyes return to their regular state. "Look at it this way," the woman continued. "So long as he does not believe it to be strictly necessary for the good of Salea, our Prince wouldn't harm a fly. This means that unless you go out of your way to provoke him, he is much more likely to arrange those little beasts spoiled rotten than have them tortured.

"Of course, our Queen does have no such qualms about removing that which she deems to be a threat to her empire or heir, so if you cast even the slightest doubt on yourself, I will not have to go against orders to make you regret your imprudence." She gave her words some time to sink in before adding, "See it as an incentive to behave yourself."

With that last sentence, she stepped away from him, though she continued to watch him with an air of cool detachment. Tiir recognized the dismissal for what it was, and forced down his anger. Keeping the little ones safe was all that mattered.

It was almost an hour after their exchange that the prince returned. He glanced at the female magician, then at Tiir, and breathed what appeared to be an exaggerated sigh of relief. The magician rolled her eyes at him and, shooting a last warning look at Tiir, removed herself.

"You all right?" the prince asked.

"Yes," Tiir said. Realizing how clipped his tone had been, he added, "I'm fine."

"Good." The man sat down next to him. "We'll be arriving at the capital tomorrow. I've discussed the matter with Arsan, and we both believe it best to not have you enter the city before nightfall - your existence isn't public knowledge, and we intend to keep it that way. Gastark might eventually figure out that it was us who got to them, but since only a select number of people are involved in the matter, it should be much harder for them to learn about _this_. You will remain with Lymeia while the rest of the platoon enters Valasea in the morning, and be brought to the palace towards the end of the day, when the streets begin to empty."

"What happens then?" Tiir asked, deciding that he might as well try to not stumble into this unprepared.

"Well," the prince said slowly. "First I'll have to convince my mother that the benefits of keeping you alive outweigh the risks. Since she's a very practical sort of person, though, the simple fact that we arrived in Salea without incident might suffice for that – I'm not too worried about that part.

"Next would be the Council. Though its members technically have no right to overrule the sovereign's decisions, our government works as smoothly as it does only because this fact is traditionally treated as nothing more than a formality. Unless we were to suddenly go to war tomorrow, they will want some assurance that you really are under control before giving their consent. The entire thing might lead to me having to attend a whole bunch of conferences, but in the end they will agree. With Gastark and a whole lot of extremely anxious neighboring countries breathing down our neck, they can't afford to pass up this kind of advantage."

Tiir turned his head to look at the prince. "You're very forthcoming with information."

The human blinked at him. "I guess," he said. "But it directly concerns you, doesn't it? I just thought you would want to know that – and how – I'm planning to uphold my part of the agreement."

"I wasn't complaining," Tiir said. He dug his fingernails into his palms. "What will be required of me?"

"Nothing much for now, I would assume. You won't have much freedom of movement and will be watched at all times, but it would probably be difficult to put your abilities to test if we don't want to sacrifice an army or two, so not much of that. Locking you up somewhere else would be a waste, not to mention rather pointless, so you'll most likely stay in or near the palace – which means keep your head down around the Council and my mother, don't talk back to anyone, and don't eat things that try to run from you screaming. You can do that, right?"

"Yes." In fact, it sounded fairly simple. Tiir had expected much worse. "The children?"

"You should be able to see one of the two within a few weeks. I have to clear up the details with my mother first, and probably get the Council's approval, but they have no reason not to give it."

Tiir inclined his head. He could wait that long, if he had to.

"Do they have names?" the human asked.

"What?"

"The children. Do they have names?"

Tiir hesitated. "Ren and Karda."

"Karda is the girl?" Tiir nodded cautiously, having no idea where the human could be going with this. "She's quite something," the prince said. "She was trembling all over, but her voice barely even shook. I almost took her threat seriously there for a second." After a moment, he added, "You must be very proud of them."

"What are you getting at?"

"Whoa." The human held up his hands. "I'm not trying to insinuate anything, so no need to bite off my head... literally. I meant that as I said it: they seemed to care about you very much."

"That's what families are supposed to be about, isn't it?" Tiir bit out.

"Well, yes, but they are still very brave children for jumping right into the line of fire. Besides, I dare say not all families stick together like that."

"_Human _families, maybe. We're not like you. We don't turn our back on our own."

"Most of us don't, either, you know."

Tiir snorted.

"Yeah, go ahead and scoff at the lowly human. I refuse to feel insulted." A pause. "So, they're your kid siblings? Wait, that doesn't really work with your mother..." The human trailed off.

Tiir glanced at him. He had half-thought the man had forgotten about that. "We're not related by blood."

"But they _are _your siblings?"

"Yes."

"Thought so. You definitely _act _like a big brother... an overprotective, slightly paranoid big brother, but I suppose that's understandable, considering the circumstances."

Tiir, who had been prepared for a mocking comment, looked at the human in astonishment. "You speak like you have experience," he remarked after a moment.

"I wish. I have an older _sister_, which is so much less awesome. Older sisters don't protect you, they are what you need protection _from_. Either that, or mine is really one of those gruesome, soul-sucking demons they set up wards against in Runa – something I have always suspected, by the way. Did I mention she _bit me _once?"

"You dislike her?" Tiir asked, bemused.

The prince snorted. "I worship the ground she walks on. I still swear she is a soul-stealing demon in disguise."

"You _enjoy _not making any sense, don't you?"

"Maybe a bit. Do you plan to stay up all night again?"

"Does it matter?"

"I'll take that as a yes. Well, I'm not feeling very sleepy, either – not that it makes much of a difference, considering Arsan is busy and Lymeia being strange, and someone has to keep an eye on you. I thought maybe we could do something a bit more fun than staring at trees until sunrise."

Tiir gave the human a bewildered look. "Like what?"

The prince grinned. "Wait here a second." He got up and walked over to the encampment, only to return a moment later with a small item in hand. Tiir stared.

"You on?" the human asked, his grin even wider than before.

Tiir just continued to stare at him, utterly dumbfounded.

.

And that was how he ended up playing cards.

With a human.

A human who proved to be downright hopeless at the game. Tiir started out not even knowing the rules, but by the end of the night, he had won thirty games out of thirty-six.

He still didn't know why he had bothered to keep count.

"Damn, you're good," the prince said when he finally put the pack away at sunup. "I would say you should play against Lymeia some time, but I have this feeling that wouldn't go down well, and not only because she's one heck of a sore loser." He stood. "So, I suppose that's it for now, huh?"

The man paused, but went on talking when Tiir didn't say anything, "Try not to make Lymeia angry, all right? I know she can be difficult to deal with, but she usually acknowledges it when someone yields." Another pause. "Well, see you tonight, then."

With that, he left.

Tiir wasn't bothered by his departure at first, but after some time discovered that while he was hardly looking forward to seeing the human again, he had grown used to his presence in the course of the last few days. With him gone and the half-Gastark magician watching his every move, he felt considerably more ill at ease than he had for the largest portion of his captivity.

The woman was a constant reminder of how thin the ice beneath his feet really was and, ironically, of how utterly dependent he was on one human's goodwill. Every despising glance she threw at him, every contemptuous snort she gave was a conscious action meant to put him in his place as much as it was a genuine expression of disgust.

And Tiir wasn't going to pick a fight.

When she looked at him, he averted his gaze. When she made a noise of derision, he turned away. When she taunted him with words, he bowed his head, hiding the hatred in his eyes.

Though he doubted that the prince's assessment was relevant – she might acknowledge a _human_ admitting defeat, but not a _monster _–, at the moment, she was an enemy he couldn't afford to aggravate.

It was as good an opportunity as any to practice licking boots.

"You've become quite the meek little monster, haven't you?" the magician commented towards the end of the day, when the sky was bathed in the deep red of the setting sun. Almost idly, she approached him. "What, I don't even get a growl anymore? Pity." He caught the canteen she threw at him without looking up. "Drink this and get going. We're moving."

Tiir wasn't feeling thirsty, but he took some of the water, anyway, before getting to his feet and holding the item back out to her.

The magician scoffed. "Keep it. I'm not going to put something in my mouth that has been slobbered at by an animal."

Tiir clenched his fists, but didn't say anything.

The woman smiled at him in mocking satisfaction. "Maybe we'll make a decent pet out of you yet."

x x x

They had walked for approximately an hour when the human abruptly came to a halt. Tiir turned to her, but resisted the urge to fix her with a loathing stare and instead looked over her shoulder in an effort to appear neutral.

It required so much concentration that his reaction when she grabbed his wrist was severely belated, and far from impressive. He flinched back, and would probably have landed on his rear if she had let go at that moment.

"You really are pathetic," the magician informed him. She turned his hand so that the palm was facing upwards, and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Tiir followed her gaze – when he realized that she was looking at the bloody marks left behind by his fingernails, his hands instinctively tensed, but this time, he consciously refrained from balling them to fists.

Instead, he looked away.

The magician snorted and let go. "Wretched creature. Well, I suppose since you have been good, you can have a treat. My Prince would probably like to have you back undamaged." He barely had the time to process her words before she threw her magic at him. Like the last time he had fed, it wasn't much – a small, controlled attack; but to Tiir, who had been feeling like he was on the verge of starving for days now, it was heaven.

He could have lost himself in the sensation, if he'd had the liberty.

He didn't, though, and so he tore himself away from the bliss and unwillingly turned off his ability. Staring at the human in confusion, he noted that one hand had been on her weapon the whole time, quite likely in case that he attacked her.

It made what she had done even more incomprehensible.

She didn't explain herself any further, though, and merely walked past him. "Heel," she said with a snap of her fingers, and Tiir caught up to her, too bewildered to even feel fury at her choice of command.

He kept his distance from her, but the road was only so broad, and the human had made it clear that she did not appreciate having him in her back. The sentiment was mutual, and so he wasn't going to walk in front of her, either, if there was no longer any sign that it was what she expected of him.

When they passed the city's gates shortly before they were closed for the night, they did so side by side, their shoulders almost touching, and Tiir didn't think either of them was happy about it.

x x x

Valasea was not like Tiir had imagined it to be. It was not much more dirty than the average human village, and though its defenses appeared to not have been neglected, it wasn't a suffocating stronghold, either. In fact, the structure of the city's intricate streets and tall bright buildings was eye-catching, and not in a bad way. There were some smaller houses, which aside from their height distinguished themselves from the rest mostly in their coloring: some were darker, a pale gray, while others simply lacked the black wood that made up the other buildings' doors, shutters and sometimes balconies. A few pompous estates and filthy alleys aside, and ignoring the fact that it was inhabited by humans, the scenery was actually a very appealing one. This was true even though – or perhaps _because_ – it was obvious that they stuck to the areas that were the least occupied.

Not that Tiir had much of a basis for comparison. He usually avoided large human towns, or really, any human settlements at all, except to feed or pick up other bearers of the Divine Eyes. The latter rarely were to be found in the bigger cities – not alive, anyway –, and when it came to the matter of nourishment, Tiir preferred to simply get the guards outside of the larger towns to supply him with magic. He had no compunction about eating humans, of course, but it was more of a hassle, and it always had something of swallowing cockroaches – they simply disgusted him too much.

As a consequence, he had rarely ever set foot into a capital city.

They arrived at the palace – another tall, bright building that looked less pompous than it could have – after an additional half an hour and several detours, and snuck inside without further delay. Tiir assumed that the majority of the guards that would otherwise have blocked their way had been withdrawn shortly beforehand – either that, or the place's security was as terrible as its prince's aptitude for card games, but he doubted the city would still be standing if that were the case.

The heir to the throne was expecting them in one of the many corridors in the upper realm of the building, and led them to a room even higher up. Tiir quickly learned that Salean architects had a bothersome predilection for spiral staircases.

"The study?" the female magician asked when they stopped in front of an ornate door made of ebony.

The prince shrugged. "The throne room would attract too much attention even at this time of the day, and my mother _does _have to arrange a Council meeting." He turned to Tiir. "She just wants to confirm what I told her, so this is only a formality, really. Don't look her in the eyes – that's considered bad etiquette in Salea for everyone except members of the Royal Family and the highest of nobles –, don't speak unless spoken to, and try not to appear like you'd rather be out there killing something. That's pretty much it, and I guess the last one isn't all that important."

Without giving Tiir time to react, the human returned his attention to the door. He knocked, and after a moment opened it without waiting for verbal permission to do so.

The female magician gave Tiir a none-too-gentle shove, and he entered in front of her.

"Mother," the prince said once the half-Gastark woman had closed the door behind herself.

The queen, who had been standing motionless behind her desk, acknowledged the greeting with a regal nod, and then immediately turned her attention to Tiir.

As he had been instructed to do, he took care not to look directly into her face as she regarded him, but he had gotten a fair impression of it when he had first entered the room. If he hadn't known she and the prince were related, he wouldn't have guessed.

Where the prince's hair was unruly and of a brown that was closer to blond, the queen's black locks fell in artful curls. Her features were less open, her movements more deliberate, and she was almost a head taller than her son.

The air of authority that surrounded her was almost palpable – if he hadn't known she was a human, Tiir would probably have felt compelled to respect her on some level.

"That's the Eye bearer?" she asked.

It was the female magician who answered. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Not quite the hideous creature I imagined." The queen stepped around her desk, stopping right in front of Tiir and grabbing his chin. "The Iino Doue – show it to me."

After a brief moment of hesitation, he did. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the magician reaching for her weapon like she had done when letting him devour her magic, but the woman in front of him didn't even blink. Tiir didn't know whether to think her bold or stupid.

The Voice told him to ___killtearapartkillkillkill_ _the inferior creature on the spot_, but he didn't let any of that show on his face.

After what felt like an eternity, the queen released him and returned behind the desk, from which she picked up a small, slender blade without a hilt to idly stroke between her fingers. Turning to her son, she said, "I won't force you to go against your word – you may keep the children, if you wish. However, as valuable a weapon as it could be, an Iino Doue would be too difficult to keep in check in the long-run." Glancing at the female magician with an impassive gaze, she ordered, "Crystallize it."

Tiir froze, and for a moment, he thought about fighting. If he died, the children's future would be even more uncertain than it already was. He could attack the human in front of him, take her as a hostage, and devour the people in this room once he had been told the little ones' location so that he could get there before anyone else.

However, the only one present both certain to know their exact whereabouts and possibly willing to at least _think _about negotiating with him was the prince, and Tiir wasn't at all sure about the last part. He wasn't an easy human to predict, and for all he knew, he and his mother were on bad terms, or he could simply be coveting the throne – he was, after all, a human. Tiir would also have to get rid of the half-Gastark magician first if he didn't want to take a huge risk, and he had a feeling that if he did that, he might as well give up on the information he desired right now and abandon the children to save his own skin; which, of course, was completely out of the question.

On the other hand, if he surrendered his life willingly, the humans might be more likely to view the children as useful weapons, and if an opportunity arose one day – and if Gastark didn't get to them first –, they might be able to flee and return to their kin one day.

Neither possibility left Tiir feeling less hopeless and enraged than the other, but in the end, he decided that if nothing else, the worst case scenario of the second option was the less terrible one. The little ones might die, but at least they wouldn't be slowly tortured to death for the sake of revenge.

So he forced himself to remain perfectly still when the female magician came to a hold behind him, and even refrained from turning off his Iino Doue.

"Kneel," she said, and Tiir allowed her to push him to the floor. Refusing to have a _human_ be the last thing he saw, he kept his gaze firmly on the white tiles. He thought of the children at the Headquarters, who would be waiting in vain for him to return – thought of Ene, and about how he could almost appreciate the fact that he would never have to stand by uselessly and watch her die. It crossed his mind that maybe if he was gone, she would be more careful with her own life for their comrades' sake; but just a heartbeat later he realized how foolish a notion that was, knowing it was for their benefit that she used her powers to such an extent in the first place. He wondered if she had foreseen this, if his death would serve a purpose; if _anything at all _he had done had served a purpose.

Feeling the cool metal of the hook against his neck, he concluded that the humans were going to immobilize him first just to be safe.

He tensed, gritting his teeth, but didn't move away.

The weapon left his nape, but instead of being rammed into his back a second later, it remained gone. Tiir looked up in confusion, only to discover that the magician was stepping aside.

"That's enough," the queen said, lowering her hand and calmly gazing at her son. "You have permission to do with him as you see fit."

"Thank you, Mother," the prince said, sounding slightly shaken, but not surprised.

"I suggest placing him with a member of the Council. Perhaps Lord Remdra – he would probably appreciate the opportunity to study the Cursed Eyes."

"Lord Remdra?" the prince asked, apparently not too enthusiastic about the prospect. "What about High Marshal Gareyn?"

The queen shook her head. "High Marshal Gareyn is a busy man and doesn't have the time, nor the means, to ensure the necessary surveillance. Lord Remdra doesn't have his duties, and would certainly support your case in front of the Council in return. I do not believe it would be easy for you to convince any of the other members to take him."

"In that case, would it be acceptable for me to look after him?"

Tiir glanced at the man in surprise – and for once it seemed he wasn't the only one who hadn't expected this turn of events.

"You?" the queen asked in apparent wonder. "Are you saying you don't have any duties to attend to?"

"This won't interfere with them. I understand that High Marshal Gareyn wouldn't be able to take him to formal events and doesn't have any non-civilian family members that would qualify to provide surveillance in his place, but no one would be surprised if I had gotten myself a bodyguard after that last assassination attempt. It's also unlikely that a spy from Gastark who has seen him before would not only manage to infiltrate the court, but also get close enough to recognize him and then leave this city alive, so it shouldn't be an issue, and if there are any other problems, I should be able to organize someone within the palace to keep an eye on him for a while."

"That may be so, but are you certain you want to limit yourself like that? You would have to remain with the bearer twenty-four hours a day, and the Council will not be swayed easily. It would be much simpler to leave him with Lord Remdra."

"I know, but I... just don't like the idea."

"You 'just don't like the idea'?" There was a faint trace of amusement in the queen's voice, but all in all, she sounded utterly bewildered.

"If I may say so," the half-Gastark magician spoke up, "it seems the Prince has grown somewhat attached to the creature after spending so much time with it. He probably worries about the extent of Lord Remdra's scientific interest."

"Is that true?" the queen asked.

"I... yes. Lord Remdra would treat him as an experiment for curiosity's sake alone. It would not benefit our empire, and therefore, I don't believe enabling such a thing to be justifiable."

"You're too soft," the queen said, but there was no bite to her words. "Keep him if you wish. Just don't forget that if he becomes a threat, you will have to dispose of him along with the two Alpha Stigma bearers."

"I'm aware of that," the prince said. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I will not convince the Council for you."

"You will give me your support, though?"

"Of course."

"That's good enough, then." There was a smile in the man's voice. "May we leave?"

A dismissive wave. "Go ahead. I still have something to discuss with Lymeia."

The prince lightly touched Tiir's shoulder. "Come on."

Tiir didn't have to be told _that _twice. He rose, and followed the man outside.

x x x

"Sorry about that," the prince said as they reached the staircase. He was walking in front of Tiir, and now glanced over his shoulder for the first time since they had left the study. "My mother _is _a very pragmatic woman, but for precisely that reason, she prefers to resolve issues immediately. An asset that could become a liability at any moment isn't worth anything to her. On the bright side, she won't question your priorities after this."

Tiir clenched his fists. "Wasn't that a bit risky just to test how far you can push me?" He was angry for having been played like that, for not having seen through it... but most of all, he still wasn't completely over the utter desolation he had felt at the thought of having to leave the children behind like that; unprotected, completely at the humans' mercy.

"Not at all. Backing you into a corner and gauging your reaction was the safest thing she could have done. If you had lashed out, it would mean you pose an acute risk to our empire – from the perspective of a sovereign, there wouldn't have been any point in keeping you around. Crystallized, your eyes may not be as efficient a weapon, but they would have been safe to use for a capable magician. Extreme situations can always arise, and we can't afford that kind of unknown variable."

"What if I had killed her?"

A short silence. "Well, I suppose I can tell you now," the prince finally said. "You remember that blade my mother held in hand? It's actually a Rule Fragment. Since you've been in contact with Gastark and have first-hand experience with Lymeia's Hook, you probably know more about them than I do, so let's just say it most likely wouldn't have ended well for you if you had reacted differently." The human shook his head. "I didn't know what _exactly _my mother was planning beforehand, and I was really worried there for a second. I could practically see you contemplating your options; if you'd made a different decision, I would have ended up breaking quite a few promises."

Tiir bit back a snarl at the implication. "Wouldn't our agreement have been null and void?" he forced himself to ask.

"Well, yes, but I did tell the children you wouldn't be harmed, either, didn't I? And later I even informed you that my mother would agree to my proposal, so it's my fault this caught you so completely off-guard."

Tiir took a moment to mull that over. Had he really not expected such a reaction from the woman simply because her son had claimed there wouldn't be? It seemed a laughable idea. He would never just put his trust in a human's words like that. And yet...

The thought that he could be killed upon his arrival had never crossed his mind. Was it because the human had sounded so confident, so earnest?

No, Tiir decided. It was nothing so curious. There simply hadn't been any logical reason for the man to bring him all this way if he would just be disposed of on the spot.

"Besides," the prince said, "it's not like I wanted to see you get killed." He threw Tiir a grin. "I rather enjoyed playing cards with you."

Some minutes later, the human halted in front of yet another dark wooden door, this one slightly less elaborate than the last. "So, here we are." The man paused, suddenly seeming worried, and turned around. "You, uh... don't eat dogs, do you?"

Tiir blinked, taken aback by the seemingly random question. "No."

"Oh, good." Another pause. "What about cats?"

Tiir decided that the human was being odd again. "I don't eat cats, either," he said in a forbearing tone of voice. Maybe that was why this human was such a strange one – he wasn't quite right, up there.

"Oh, er, that's good, then." The prince turned back and unlocked the door. "Come in."

However, before either of them could cross the threshold, a large, furry black... _thing _first threw himself at the prince, and then at Tiir.

While the human, apparently prepared, simply shoved the animal back down and petted it for a few seconds until it moved on to its next target, Tiir had not expected to be literally jumped.

Standing on its hind legs, the thing easily reached up to his shoulders, and Tiir, who stumbled back in surprise, quickly learned that it was as heavy as it looked.

This time, he _did _land on his rear.

The dog – or at least, Tiir assumed it was a dog, because while he didn't have much experience with them, he'd always thought they weren't supposed to resemble an over-sized floor cloth – happily used the opportunity to lick not only his hands, but also his face and hair.

Finally, Tiir got over his surprise enough to hold the thing off with one arm. He stared at it.

Right behind the dog, the human, who had been looking rather unsure until then, suddenly burst out laughing. It wasn't a sinister or even mocking kind of laugh, but just... amused. Tiir didn't think he'd ever had a human direct that kind of laughter at him before, and it just made him feel more out of his depth.

Soon, the prince was lying on the floor in hysterics. "The... the look on your face," he said between gasps.

The dog was still trying to get to him with its tongue, so Tiir carefully patted it on the head in an attempt to calm it down. The animal seemed content with that, and after a while went back over to its master, possibly to make sure he wasn't about to suffocate.

The prince had gotten back to his feet, but he was leaning against the wall for support, his shoulders still shaking. "Yes, good dog," he finally managed.

The animal stepped aside, and the prince walked over to Tiir, holding out his hand.

Tiir looked at it without moving for a moment, before hesitatingly taking it.

"Sorry, Lord Truffles can get a bit over-excited."

"Lord... Truffles?"

"That's what my mother said. I've since been forbidden to so much as _suggest _names for any of her potential grandchildren. Yes, that would include my own."

Tiir couldn't help but think that the human queen probably had the right idea there.

x x x

"Welcome to my chambers," the prince said once he had closed the door behind them and lit some candles. "Feel free to make yourself at home."

Tiir glanced around. It was a relatively large room, but sparingly furnished – a bookshelf, a desk and a chair in one corner; a large pillow and a bowl filled with water that seemed to belong to the dog in the other, and opposite to the door a spacious bed with an open window and what appeared to be an old wooden wardrobe next to it. Aside from that, Tiir could make out some landscape paintings and a similar tapestry. The walls themselves were painted in white just like the ones in the corridors and in the study had been, though the carpeted floor was of a dull brown.

He only noticed the small table next to the door when the prince walked over to it, put a cloth into the basin resting on top of it and finally offered the wet kerchief to Tiir. "Here, in case you want to get cleaned up after your encounter with Lord Truffles."

Tiir took it with some reluctance, unable to detect the taunt in the human's voice that he knew must be there.

"I wouldn't be able to get another bed in here without attracting unwanted attention, but make yourself comfortable wherever you want."

Once he was done using it, Tiir put down the cloth on the table it had come from, and silently sat down next to the piece of furniture.

The human blinked at him, then shook his head. "You know," he said, picking up a blanket and a pillow from the bed, "I'm not _that _much of a bastard. I do have some spare bedclothes, at least." He dropped the items in front of Tiir. Something seemed to occur to him, and he hesitated. "Actually," he said slowly, "I wouldn't mind sharing, if you find the floor to be uncomfortable."

Tiir glanced up at the human, hand hovering over the blanket he had been about to take. "You're offering to share your bed with a _monster_?" he asked in a mixture of contempt and bafflement.

"Yeah, some monster you are – defeated by Lord Truffles." With a snort, the prince locked the door and turned to him. "So?"

"I'm fine," Tiir said, trying not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Sleep in the bed of an enemy, a _human_?

It was a foreign, utterly ludicrous notion.

"Suit yourself." The prince started to move towards the bed again, but then stopped abruptly and whirled around. "Ah, I remember now!"

Tiir regarded him, bemused. "Remember what?"

The human grinned broadly. "Your name!" he declared. "It was Tiir, right?" Perhaps at Tiir's badly concealed look of surprise, he explained, "I heard the children say it, but it didn't quite register at the time." He paused. "It _was _Tiir, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Tiir said, slowly.

"So," the human began, a bit less exuberant, "would you mind if I called you that?"

Tiir hadn't expected the man to care about his opinion in the matter, but now that he had been asked, he thought about it. He'd never had a human address him by name. He usually got 'monster', sometimes 'demon' or even 'devil', and he was fine with that. What did the predator care what the prey called him?

However, things had gotten complicated, and being reminded so blatantly of how his comrades were treated by those lowly humans, how they were abandoned and shunned and slaughtered, was so much more difficult when he wasn't allowed to just rip the offenders' heads off.

Besides, there was no real reason why he _shouldn't _give the human permission to call him by name.

"No," he said therefore. "I wouldn't mind."

The prince was grinning once more. Tiir had no idea what had him so excited, but something crossed his mind. "What do you wish me to address you as?"

The human stopped his stupid grinning and looked at him in surprise. "Huh. I hadn't thought about that." A pause. "In fact, I didn't even introduce myself, did I? The name is Ecylan. Ecylan Elestres, but Ecylan is fine in private, really. In public... take your pick. Can't go wrong with 'Your Highness', I suppose."

"Ecylan," Tiir tried, almost without thinking. The name felt strange on his tongue.

"I'm not picky, honestly – but something other than 'human' would be nice. You have this way of saying the word..."

"It's fully intentional, I assure you."

"I had a feeling it was. Since we'll be spending quite a bit of time with each other in the near future, though, would it hurt to try and be civil? I don't need to be constantly reminded that you'd much rather have me for a snack than converse with me, thank you very much. For some reason, it makes me a bit uneasy."

"You've got quite the high opinion of yourself. Your brain tissue may look appetizing enough, but I promise you that given the choice, I prefer magic over human trash."

"My brain tissue looks... I will _so _forget you ever said that." The prince shuddered, but then paused. "On the other hand, it's probably the nicest thing I'll ever get to hear from you, isn't it? Maybe I should just take it as a compliment." The human nodded to himself, and politely told him, "Thank you. I'm sure your brain tissue looks very delicious, too."

Tiir gaped at him.

"So," the prince continued, as if he hadn't just proven that he was of questionable sanity at best – no human was supposed to react to Tiir's ability with that kind of indifference. "Magic tastes better than people?"

"It's not about _taste_," Tiir said. "It's simply more potent." He paused. "And less _filthy_."

"You really must hate humans a whole lot, if you'd even be willing to abstain from all that delicious brain tissue."

Tiir narrowed his eyes at the prince. "I do."

"Why?"

"Why?" Tiir repeated, turning his snarl into a scoff with some effort, but being quite certain that his eyes had flashed red there for a second. "You hunt us down like beasts and have the nerve to ask _why_?"

"Whoa, calm down. I never said I don't understand why _I _am not your favorite person in the world right now. If I was in your position, I wouldn't like me very much, either. What I'm wondering is what you have against humanity as a whole."

Tiir made a sound of derision. "You're all the same. There is no difference between you and the rest." And if there was, it said a lot that his captor, who had threatened his family and used him against them, would easily come out the lesser of two evils.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I've seen it." Tiir narrowed his eyes. "Because it's the truth."

"You've taken the time to get to know every human in existence on a personal basis?" the prince asked, eyebrows raised. "I'm impressed."

"That's hardly necessary." Because he had encountered enough humans. Because he could hear Heaven's command since before he had taken his first gulp of air. Because he had seen what the lowly human scum did to those of his brethren who couldn't – who devoted themselves to them and got betrayed and betrayed and betrayed again.

Because he no longer doubted that it had been his _right _to devour the inferior human woman who had conceived him.

"If you say so," the human replied, sounding fairly underwhelmed by his reasoning. "I think I'm going to catch some sleep now. Anything you need?"

"No," Tiir said curtly.

"All right. Oh," the man added as an afterthought, "don't be surprised if cats start climbing through the window. They tend to come and go as they please."

Tiir watched the prince yawn tiredly and turn around, and wondered – not for the first time – where that human's peculiarity came from.

.

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* * *

**Author's Note:**

Yes, Main Character Number Two officially has a name now! Not that it will kill the epithets, but hey, it's a step in the right direction.**  
**

I promised myself to not make any silly jokes about how this is clearly going to be a beautiful friendship since everyone wants to be loved for what is inside their head and the way to a man's heart is obviously through his stomach, so let's pretend this sentence does not exist.

It shouldn't be so much fun to sic over-friendly dogs on unsuspecting fictional characters, but it _is_. All right, so Tiir probably wouldn't agree, but I'm sure he's glad to have some semi-decent company, at least!

I still don't know how he and Ecy ended up playing cards, by the way. I'm mean, I'm sure it had something to do with Tiir being all "wtf" and "better not upset the dangerous human with the loose screw", but I_ really didn't plan that_. I should probably be glad it wasn't something like I Spy instead, because that would just have been awkward.

...Though probably only slightly more awkward than me having made up _another_ Rule Fragment. I figured that if I didn't want Salea to be eradicated within a week or so, they better had _something_ up their sleeves. Speaking of awkward, I hesitated to use words like "deactivate" in regards to the Iino Doue, since it's technically inaccurate (as some aspects of the Iino Doue aren't affected, like its automatic absorption of anything magic that gets near Tiir), but I eventually decided to go with it, mostly because I decided that the context would take care of any ambiguity. I hope I was right!

The inspiration for the chapter title this time was the song "Our Solemn Hour" by Within Temptation. I also thought "Darkest Hour" _sort of_ worked as an allusion to "Crawling in the Dark" by Hoobastank.

Next time: cats! Er, I mean, lots of deep, meaningful stuff... but also cats!

For now, I hope you had fun reading this chapter!

(Maybe I should just call this section "Author's Half-Coherent Ramblings" instead.)


	4. Tiger, Tiger

So much for posting the next chapter soon. I'd planned to have this up an eternity ago and was even done editing already (or so I thought), but then I got cold feet and went over everything again, only to discover that some sentences really irked me. Which is why this chapter took even more time than the last one for me to upload. However, it's also longer than the previous part again... and it has cats! Naturally, cats make everything better.

Still, sorry especially to those I told via pm that I'd likely post the chapter within a month. And there's one review reply still missing, so I'm just going to put it here. Though before that, let me use this opportunity to say that while I only responded to the comments (because else I'd just feel weird), the favs and alerts also made me grin!

So, that review reply (to acperience): Kya, thank you – I'm happy this fic makes you happy! And that Tiir's portrayal has been working well for you so far, because his characterization is definitely one of the things in this fic I worry about most. I can promise that whatever happens, he'll definitely have a lot more opportunities to be murderous. And ha, omg, glad about the Snow White thing, too. This is totally proof that the comparison makes perfect sense! ...From a certain but completely valid and not at all random point of view. Yep.

And now: cats!

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Tiger, Tiger  
**

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.

Tiir allowed himself a couple hours of sleep, but when he awoke in the middle of the night, he couldn't shake off the feeling of suffocation that had taken a hold of him. He felt uneasy, restless – too much like the caged beast he had become.

He couldn't stop thinking about the children. How close he had come to losing them, to forfeiting not only his own life but also theirs. They would have died without ever truly having lived amongst their own kind.

He wanted to see for himself that they were all right so badly – physically, but also emotionally. They had been hurt enough already. They shouldn't need to endure the cold glares, the ugly laughter. They shouldn't need to listen helplessly as they were called monsters, demons, hideous abominations.

Their wounds had just been beginning to heal, so who did those lowly humans think they were to so nonchalantly tear them open again, as if it was nothing? As if _they _were nothing?

All that those children had wanted was acceptance, and now so many of them were already dead, the last thing they had heard having been those bastards from Gastark's callous cheering, their cruel mockery.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

They were superior beings favored by Heaven, so why was he always so powerless? Why couldn't he even protect those dear to him?

If Lafra had been here, he would have had an answer. Lafra had always known what to say to make people feel better, to give them hope – he had been much like Ene in that respect, though instead of calm certainty, his words had radiated sheer _faith_. Faith in the future, faith in the world, faith even in humans. It wasn't uncommon for bearers of the Divine Eyes to like humans, but to genuinely think that they could change?

There had been a time when Tiir had thought Lafra pitiable for believing in something that could never be; but even though he still didn't understand, even though it had been an impossible dream and his friend's death the final testament to that, he couldn't think of Lafra as someone whose life should be particularly pitied. He had been strong in his own way, with his kind, patient wisdom and heartfelt smiles that seemed to so effortlessly triumph over the sadness and loneliness of his past.

Tiir felt lost without him.

He rose, and soundlessly crossed the room until he stood in front of the window. He would have been wary of the human's reaction if he were to wake up and find him so close, but since the man had offered to sleep in one bed with him, Tiir didn't think he was likely to panic and jump to unreasonable conclusions.

After all, if Tiir had been planning to kill him despite the consequences, he would have done so a long time ago. And if the time came when he could do so without risking his family, he would start with the half-Gastark magician for practical as well as personal reasons.

Tiir gazed past the thick branches of a crooked broad-leaf tree at the waning moon, enjoying the breeze and feeling some of the pressure on his chest vanish. He was trapped, but the situation wasn't hopeless. He had retained some freedom of movement. He would use it to find a way to escape this place together with the children, or if that really proved to be impossible, then at least he would make sure it was enough to protect them.

The human seemed willing to make concessions for the moment – surely, Tiir could make use of that. However, he remembered the half-Gastark magician's threat all too well, and he knew he would have to maneuver carefully. For the moment, his goal couldn't be destroying the enemy; he had to concentrate on shielding those closest to his heart.

Even so, he wondered for how long he would be able to preserve the children's lives if he did that. Until the humans determined that they were too dangerous to be useful, after all? Until the children were driven to the point where they lost control over their powers? Until those despicable vermin killed them on a mere whim?

No, he couldn't afford to be _too _careful, either, Tiir decided. He had to get the children away from the humans soon, or they would be dead anyway. Neither Karda nor Ren would be pushed over the edge easily, but they had been through so much already just in the past few days, and even in the unlikely case that the humans didn't lay a hand on them, they had no reason to not make the children miserable in every other way if they weren't even going to use their powers directly. The chances of the children surviving amongst the enemies of their kind for long were low to begin with – in this situation, they were practically non-existent.

Knowing this, though, didn't change the fact that Tiir had no idea how to find the two of them.

The humans had to have a weakness he could utilize, and of course he could take a guess and try his luck, but he didn't think that was a good idea unless he absolutely had to. He couldn't even begin to imagine how those creatures' minds worked, so if he wanted to figure out what was important enough to them to make them reveal the children's whereabouts, the sensible thing to do would be to investigate the matter properly.

And there _was_ one thing he knew humans valued, almost as much as they feared it – power. If he wanted the odds to be in the children's favor, what he probably needed to know first was _what _kind of power either the prince or the queen held that they deemed essential.

However, while it made for a good starting point, it wasn't quite as simple as threating to take that power from them once he had identified it. He had little doubt that both the humans were extremely fond of their own worthless lives, but threatening to take those from them was likely to end in the children's deaths regardless – if nothing else, the humans had no reason to assume that Tiir would spare them even if they gave in to his demands. And why would he?

So in the end, it still came down to being careful while he tried to come up with a plan that didn't seem to include the children's deaths as an inevitable outcome.

Tiir contemplated his options until the darkness outside started fading, and – having failed to get any further with his deliberations –, he might have continued to do so until sunrise if not for the small brown creature that suddenly appeared on one of the branches. It stood frozen in mid-step, staring at him with large amber eyes.

Tiir blinked at it, taken aback by the fact that he hadn't noticed it climbing up the tree; but then he smiled and held out his hand. He didn't know what to do with dogs, but he did have some experience with cats. There were a few half-wild ones at the Headquarters and the children adored them, even though they only sometimes allowed themselves to be petted.

The cat mewed quietly and cautiously approached him. After giving his hand a quick sniff, it rubbed its head against his palm and started purring. Tiir scratched its ears.

"Did I surprise you?" he asked softly, and carefully picked the animal up. It immediately clawed at his chest, which was a bit uncomfortable despite the cloth in-between, but since the cat hadn't stopped purring and in fact seemed quite pleased with itself, Tiir didn't mind. He petted it some more, then turned around to set it down on the floor–

– and froze.

The human was sitting upright in the middle of the bed, watching him.

"Do you like cats?"

Tiir relaxed somewhat at the prince's curious tone of voice, and released the cat onto the ground. "Yes," he answered as he got back up – simply, honestly.

"There are two of them," the human, whose name meant nothing to Tiir, told him. "This is the female one – her name is Her Majesty. The male is called King." He snorted. "My sister thought naming them that would be hilarious. They're both hers, by the way."

Tiir fixed his gaze on the man. He seemed in a good enough mood, considering the topic of their last conversation. "Then why are they with you?"

"Oh, right, you wouldn't know. My sister is no longer staying at the palace. When she gave up her right to the throne, she practically disowned herself. She visits sometimes, though."

Tiir was somewhat surprised to hear the human talk as if the woman in question had relinquished her claim to the crown _willingly_, considering humans usually killed each other to gain possession of it; but then again, there was hardly anything humans _didn't _kill each other over, and fearful creatures that they were, it was by no means unusual for them to give up on something they desired when the alternative would place them in danger. Tiir neither understood nor cared about the specifics of human politics, but even he knew that being the ruler of a country about to engage in warfare with a nation powerful enough to take down Stohl was hardly a guarantee for a long life.

"Why did she give up on the throne?" he queried anyway, partly because it was as good a starting point as any for trying to gather information, but also out of lingering curiosity. He hadn't noted any discord between mother and son, but if he held his sister in as high a regard as he claimed to, the prince should be unhappy if there was bad blood between her and the queen, shouldn't he?

Then again, humans were good at pretending, and lying to their own flesh and blood didn't mean anything to them. It would be easy for them to cover up their discontentment until right before they struck.

"My sister has always been like that," the prince said, sounding wistful, almost sad. "Strong, determined, driven. Nothing could ever hold her down. She would have made a good queen, but her passion is magic. She wanted to concentrate on her studies and improve Salea's arsenal of spells further. Mother told her there was no need to give up succession for that – that she should just oversee a team of researchers in the future –, but Malyrei is nothing if not stubborn."

"So you had to give up on becoming a healer instead?"

The prince looked at him in surprise for a moment, before giving a lop-sided smile. "I didn't _have _to. My sister asked me before she made it official, said she could always find a way to continue doing research on the side. But I'd never been all that serious about becoming a healer, and I... I didn't want to be the thing that ended up blocking her path after all. If I'd asked her to, she would have given up on her plans. I'd never dreamt I could have that kind of power over her. It was... kind of terrifying, to be honest."

Tiir watched the strange human, whose apparent openness baffled him and whose love for his sister seemed so genuine.

He didn't know what to make of it.

And a human terrified of _having _power? Now where would you find that? It sounded like a whole new level of cowardice, but then it didn't make sense that the human was even sitting here answering Tiir's questions.

"You didn't pull an all-nighter again, did you?" the human disrupted his musings.

"No," Tiir said, stepping away from the window. "I only woke up some time ago."

"Oh. That's good, then, I suppose." A pause. "The floor really isn't too uncomfortable?"

Tiir couldn't imagine why the human would be so concerned about that. "It's fine."

"All right, if you're sure," the prince said, somewhat reluctantly. "I should probably have us brought something to eat. Any preferences?"

Tiir gave him a wry look. "Things that would try to run from me screaming aside, you mean?"

"Well, you _did _say those weren't among your favorites," the human retorted with a shrug. "How often do you need to feed on magic, anyway?"

For a split second, Tiir thought about lying. He could use any advantages he could get, and this would be a rather big one. However, even if the prince honestly had no idea at all about the matter, there was no telling what the half-Gastark woman might know, and so Tiir decided to be truthful, "Not often. As long as there are other kinds of food available, being unable to make use of the Iino Doue won't kill me." Nor for a very long time, at least.

"But it would be painful for you?"

Painful? In the long-run, it would be excruciating.

Tiir clenched his fists. "Yes."

The prince remained silent for a moment. Then, "Would once a week suffice?"

"What?" Tiir asked, startled.

"Provided you neither get injured nor need to fight, would a small amount once a week be enough to make it bearable?"

"Yes," Tiir said, slowly.

"Then we'll do that – well, I'll have to speak with my mother first, but it shouldn't be a problem. She as good as gave me full authority in this matter."

"Aren't you scared of my powers?" Tiir asked. He narrowed his eyes. "Of what I might do?"

"Honestly? If I wasn't so sure that you wouldn't do anything to endanger your siblings, I'd be scared shitless. But even if you killed every single person in this city, news would travel before you'd possibly be able to find them. Only two people in this castle know their whereabouts, and neither is going to reveal them to you – regardless of the circumstances."

"You seem confident."

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have brought you here. And if you believed I was lying, you would have made your move by now, magic or no magic." The human got up and stretched languidly. "So, food preferences?"

Tiir regarded the man for a moment longer, before finally shrugging. He didn't know a thing about Salean cuisine.

"All right, then. You can wait here, if you want – it will just be a minute. Actually, you could do me a favor and prevent Her Majesty from waking up Lord Truffles. He always wants to go for a walk when he gets up, and if you ask me, it's still way too early for that."

Tiir resisted the urge to shake his head in wonder. The pets' names really were ridiculous.

x x x

The food, a traditional, spicy sort of pastry filled with vegetables, had been good – Tiir couldn't deny that, even if it continued to escape him why the human was going to so much trouble to accommodate him. Had things been different, he would have assumed the man was deluding himself into thinking that he could win Tiir over by pretending to care – many of his brethren had been deceived and manipulated by humans, after all, confused as they had been by their upbringing amongst the inferior creatures.

However, there was hardly any need for such an elaborate scheme: Tiir's hands were already sufficiently tied by his loyalty to his family, and the human seemed to realize this. Besides, he had hardly given the man basis to assume that he harbored anything less than the blackest hatred for his kind. There seemed to be no point to his actions.

Still, there had to be a logical reason for the prince's behavior, even if Tiir could not yet see it. He would have to remain alert.

He accompanied the human outside when the dog finally demanded its right, and the fact that he felt like yet another pet on a leash aside, it wasn't so bad. The sun was still not completely up, and they encountered only a few humans in the corridors, all of whom were guards and servants who had no idea who or what he was. If they threw him some curious glances, then Tiir didn't come close enough to notice, making the desire to kill them easy to ignore.

The palace gardens themselves were beautiful, appearing wild and untouched by human hands although Tiir knew that they couldn't possibly be. At their heart, a vast variety of flowers and bushes grew around a small lake whose water was just a little too clear, and some of those plants he had never seen before.

Lafra would have loved it.

Tiir watched the human take off the dog's leash and pick up a large stick for it to retrieve – except that the dog preferred to lie down to gnaw on it several feet away, making the human come after it instead.

Tiir could see the prince rolling his eyes in annoyance at the animal, but he did seem to be enjoying himself, and the scenario was repeated several times before the man suddenly glanced at Tiir, tilting his head as if debating something. After a moment, he held the stick out to him. "Do you want to try?"

Tiir hesitated, but then grasped the piece of wood. He made sure not to touch the human, but as a result put his hand on what must have been the most slimy part of the item.

He grimaced.

The human chuckled. "Yes, my thoughts exactly. Just use Lord Truffles as a towel afterwards. He deserves it."

Tiir didn't reply, but decided to take the advice. He threw the stick, and watched the animal chase after it with its usual enthusiasm. "Are all dogs this simple?"

The prince made a sound of amusement. "Probably not, but this one certainly is. Give him some food, a pat on the head and something to entertain himself with, and he wouldn't notice even if the world ended around him. He was originally intended as a guard dog, but, well, the only reason the assassin screamed was that Lord Truffles tackled the poor man in an effort to steal his shoes. Apparently, chewing on them was more important than preserving my life."

Tiir snorted, and bent down to pet the dog. "I think I like him."

"Oh great, yet another person who has mastered the art of making jabs that don't _sound _like jabs. Just what I needed." The prince seemed more entertained by the notion than anything, though.

"I'm a 'person' now?"

The human looked at him, clearly taken aback. "Well," he said, "I suppose. I mean, I'm still creeped out as heck by the fact that you apparently think my brain tissue looks 'appetizing', but like this, you hardly seem very terrible." He shrugged. "Kind of difficult to think of you as a monster when you behave less like a spawn of evil than my own sister."

Tiir narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't bother you that I devoured one of your men?"

"Narvsen?" the prince asked and then scratched the back of his head in a gesture that seemed strangely self-conscious for this situation.

Of course Tiir hadn't expected the human to be _heartbroken _over the loss of a soldier who, as far as Tiir could tell, had possessed no particular merits – he hadn't appeared to have any understanding of magic, judging by how he hadn't even tried to hurl a spell at the children from afar to divert Tiir's attention, and his movements had been as sluggish as those of any other human. Even so, this was a rather bizarre reaction.

"Well," the prince finally continued, "I'm not _happy _about it, but it's not like he and I were close. Not to speak ill of the dead, but he held some beliefs..." The human shook his head. "It's not like I even knew him all that well. He spent most of his time away from the capital and rarely attended official functions. Despite that, he had some influence because his late father was well-respected in the court, and among other things, he used it to force his way into a mission he wasn't supposed to have any part in, for the sole reason that he didn't want to leave the matter in Lymeia's hands – because she's a woman.

"Now, there are countries where such views are common, but Salea is not one of them. It probably didn't even occur to him that he was insulting my mother – his sovereign – to my face when he voiced his concerns. He also wasn't supposed to charge right at you and risk the whole mission for no apparent reason at all. So while I'd much rather have let Lymeia report the matter to my mother and waited for her to handle it in less bloody fashion, if you _had _to make a picnic out of one of my subjects... let's just say it could have been worse."

The human paused, then added, "Besides, I'm actually more bothered by the fact that you've killed civilians than by the knowledge that you consumed someone who attacked you first. I do think your eating habits are disgusting, but then again, so are Lymeia's. Her favorite dish is frog legs from Imperial Nelpha. Frog legs! Thank goodness those are hard to come by around here."

Tiir could not believe the human had just made that comparison. "Are you serious?" he asked, not even trying to conceal his incredulity.

"Well, it _would _be kind of hypocritical of me to walk around cursing you for killing your enemies, don't you think?" A short silence as the human once more picked up the stick and threw it for the dog to run after. "I just don't get why you would go after innocents."

Tiir could have told the prince that there was no such thing as an innocent human, but he knew the man would just claim otherwise – so instead, he said, "You are merely inferior beings." And then, with a scoff, he asked, "Do you ask yourself whether the cow was innocent every time you eat beef?"

"Actually," the prince said, "I'm a vegetarian. I don't eat beef... or any meat at all, for the matter."

Tiir stared at him.

The human chuckled. "Yeah, I get that a lot, though it's actually not that unusual in Salea – it's a bit complicated. Anyway, my rule of thumb is: 'if there's something else available and it _looks _like it would run from you screaming if it could, don't eat it.' Of course, I still kill when I think it's necessary, and as you know very well, I'm also perfectly willing to play dirty, so I'm really in no position to judge you. I'm just trying to understand where you're coming from."

"Why?"

"Because," the prince said, "it's too easy to hate that which you fear, and to fear that which you don't understand." A pause. "I realize that now."

Several seconds passed in which Tiir mulled over that reply. Finally, he gave up on trying to make sense of the man, and simply declared, "You're a strange sort of human."

Next to him, the prince breathed a laugh. "Two compliments in two days? I feel honored. You're a very fascinating kind of person yourself."

Not knowing what to make of that, Tiir just followed the human back to his chambers in silence

x x x

"I hate Council meetings." It was late afternoon when the prince announced this. They hadn't spoken much since their exceedingly peculiar conversation earlier that day – apparently, the human had several dozen reports to go through that had been accumulating during his absence, and Tiir had been content to be left to his musings.

Now, Tiir glanced over to the human, who was standing in front of the opened wardrobe and radiating frustration. "Why is that?"

"For one, more than half of those nobles are god damn difficult to deal with. Also, I hate formal wear – no, actually, it would be more accurate to say formal wear hates _me_. How the hell do you lace this thing? It's like one of those overly elaborate dresses my sister used to burn, and I fully understand why she did it."

Tiir gently put down the female cat, who apparently had decided that his lap was a suitable cushion at some point. He rose, and was standing in front of the human a moment later.

The prince blinked at him stupidly, but didn't even flinch when Tiir reached for the laces. Instead, the man just watched in wonder as he tied them and then moved on to the next pair.

When he was done, the human was long since staring at him. "How did you _do _that?"

"It's not difficult."

The prince snorted. "Maybe for you." Looking down on himself, he shook his head. "You have to teach me that some time – I tend to need hours for this kind of thing. Anyway, thank you. I really appreciate it."

Tiir regarded the man. He'd never been thanked by a human before. Neither had he ever assisted one on a whim, for the matter.

What was he doing?

No, actually, Tiir knew very well what he was doing, and that was the problem. He hadn't done what he had to garner favor, or even to unsettle the human in an act of petty revenge. Rather, he had been _testing _him.

It was ridiculous. A human was a human, whether he backed away from him in fear and disgust or not. Some were just better at masking their emotions than others.

And yet, there hadn't been anything fake about the way the human's eyes had widened, first in surprise and then in something much too close to awe.

Tiir decided that, if nothing else, he should have been more subtle regarding his motivations.

"You'll be fine, right?" the human asked, looking concerned. "It should be a fairly trivial affair, but I _am _a bit worried about sending you there with Lymeia, considering..." Running a hand through his hair, the man sighed. "I wish Mother had told me earlier."

"Would it have made a difference?"

The prince seemed affronted by the question. "Of course! At the very least, I would have come along to oversee the whole thing myself. Though I suppose," he continued after a moment, "it really doesn't matter much. All the tests should be relatively harmless, the ones designed to get a better impression of your regenerative abilities being the only ones that will require physically injuring you. However, if you find that any of the procedures make you overly uncomfortable in spite of that, Lymeia has clear instructions to call everything off until we've had a chance to look for alternatives. There won't be any negative consequences."

"Why, thank you," Tiir said, narrowing his eyes. "Are you always this considerate towards your research subjects?"

It was quite satisfying to see the human flinch at his words. "It's not like tha-" the prince began, but then broke off and shook his head. "No, you're right, it _is_. And I don't expect you to be happy about it, or to forgive me. All I'm asking is that you let Lymeia know if there is something wrong. She may not like you very much, but she does take her duties seriously." The human took a deep breath. "I know you have every reason to resent her, but just for this, could you... see her as an ally, perhaps?"

_What? _Tiir almost laughed. "I don't think so."

"At least try? I promised the children you wouldn't come to any harm. Do it for them?"

Tiir wanted to snarl at the human for daring to bring the little ones into this and trying to manipulate him through them, but the expression on the prince's face gave him pause.

Was the human... _pleading _with him?

Yes, Tiir decided after another moment. That was exactly what the man was doing.

Tiir didn't understand.

In the end, what he said was, "I'll think about it."

The human nodded, appearing relieved. "Well," he said. "Let's go, then."

A moment later, he walked out of the door, Tiir right behind him. They didn't speak another word.

x x x

What Tiir learned that evening about the half-Gastark woman was that it was much easier to remember that he wasn't supposed to kill her when she didn't talk.

After more than two hours, she had yet to address him directly – which was an insult all in its own right, but seeing how she had so far refrained from referring to him as a pet as well as from resorting to dog commands, Tiir could content himself with simply ignoring her in turn.

The tests themselves were simple enough – banal, even. Through most of the process, he just had to stand, sometimes sit, in the bland white room without moving and allow the humans to see the Iino Doue when one of the magicians told him to. The injuries inflicted upon him to observe him recover were minor, and while Tiir did find the whole experience to be degrading, it wasn't worse than his first few days as a prisoner had been, and not nearly as painful. He even got to feed, which almost made up for half of it.

What he did find deeply unpleasant was one of the magicians picking at his face and eyes for no discernible reason, but surprisingly, it was the half-Gastark woman who put an end to that very quickly, coolly telling the man that he was supposed to do his job, not 'poke the monster'.

For all that Tiir hated her, the resulting expression on the man's face _was _amusing. Too bad there wasn't much about him that looked palatable...

"Commander, it's staring at me."

"So?" the woman asked.

"It's a very _worrying _kind of stare."

The half-Gastark magician mock-gasped. "Why, soldier, are you saying it would rather be eating you than following your instructions? Whatever gave you the idea?" The man gulped audibly, and she snorted. "Perhaps you should not put your hands so close to its mouth if its food habits unsettle you so."

"T-that's, er, very good advice, Commander," the man said, backing away from Tiir slightly. "Thank you."

"When Her Majesty asks about the results, I shall inform her that it did not chew on you."

"Uh..."

"I am telling you to _stop being a coward_. It's not going to do anything. Of course, if you decide to keep poking around in its eyes like a child in spinach, I might or might not care if it accidentally bites off your arm."

"Y-yes, ma'am, sorry, ma'am."

Two of the other three magicians snickered. The third looked torn between amusement and sympathy – Tiir absently noted that she was the only other female in the group.

When they wanted to observe the speed of his movements, Tiir was tempted to place himself right behind the half-Gastark woman just to watch her reaction, but in the end, he decided that the brief enjoyment of throwing her off balance was not worth the risk of ending up with sharp metal between his ribs. He also felt no desire to antagonize her after going to all the trouble of getting her _off his case _– it seemed they had reached a fragile kind of truce for the moment, and Tiir had an active interest in making it last past this. He hadn't forgotten what she was capable of.

So instead of doing something horrendously stupid for no other reason than to vent his anger, he chose the middle course, appearing behind the man who had seemed to find his eyes so very captivating-

- and _smiling _at him.

He wasn't the first human who lost control over his bladder as a result.

Tiir wrinkled his nose – no, really not the most appetizing piece of meat – and repeated the process three more times. One of the other two men fell backwards, which was fairly entertaining; the other prepared to cast a spell, before realizing the flaw in his thinking and glaring at Tiir instead. Now _this _one seemed worth taking a bite...

The second female mage just yelped and backed away from him when he suddenly showed up in front of her, and Tiir quickly lost interest, instead turning to the group's leader.

Keeping his gaze impassive rather than challenging, the Iino Doue no longer visible, he waited.

The half-Gastark magician regarded him in silence for a moment. "Good enough," she finally announced. "We're done here."

The rest of the humans looked terribly relieved at that.

Only the man who had glared at Tiir before asked, "Shouldn't we be more thorough?"

"And risk breaking a powerful weapon?" the half-Gastark woman asked. "No. Our orders concerning this matter are very clear. If there is sufficient cause, we may conduct further research in the future, but even then, the monster is to remain largely undamaged."

"I suppose that makes sense..."

"Of course it does. Are you doubting our Queen's wisdom?"

"Never!" the human male exclaimed with conviction. "So, er, you are taking it back now?"

"Obviously. Unless you wanted to invite it for dinner?"

From behind the half-Gastark magician, Tiir grinned at the man.

"N-not at all, ma'am. Have a pleasant evening!"

A snort. "I'm sure it will be _delightful_." The woman glanced at Tiir. "Come."

It _sounded _like a dog command, but at least it was better than 'heel'. Tiir obeyed.

He wondered if the human from before, whom he had so kindly assisted in ruining his clothes, would have nightmares about him.

He certainly hoped so.

x x x

"How was it?"

The prince, who had been going through yet another stack of documents, whirled around in his chair. "W-what?" he stammered.

Tiir gazed at him. It was far from the first time he had made a human nervous, but it was the first time that nervousness didn't have anything to do with _fear_. "The Council meeting," he said. "How was it?"

"Horrible, but I didn't expect anything less. I hope I'll have them convinced by the end of the week." The human paused, then asked, "You're talking to me again?"

"I wasn't aware I was _sulking_."

"I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but actually..." Tiir threw the man a _look_. The human coughed. "Anyway. There's... nothing wrong, is there? You're fine?"

"Perfectly."

The human gave a sigh of relief. "I'm glad. And you, uh, don't hate me any more than you already did?"

"It hardly makes a difference." And really, it didn't. Tiir was acutely aware of his status as a prisoner, and had been from the start. Becoming a research subject hadn't been unexpected, and in fact, he had anticipated that it would be quite an unpleasant experience.

The testing as a whole _had _been far from enjoyable, but he had gotten something out of it, at least, and it definitely hadn't been so terrible that it would have changed anything.

He was still a captive. He still hated humans.

He still required this one to not loathe him more than he already would, and thought him peculiar.

"That's good to hear," the prince said. "I think." He tilted his head. "Does everyone of your kind hate humans?"

Tiir narrowed his eyes. He wasn't about to supply the humans with information about his comrades.

On the other hand, the question seemed inconsequenital enough, and Tiir didn't see any harm in answering it. "They should," he said.

"But they don't?"

"Not those who grow up amongst your kind, not knowing any better and in many cases never even getting the opportunity to learn the truth."

"Because they die before that?"

"Because they are _killed_."

"I see," the human said, then paused. "Wait. Bearers of the Alpha Stigma are born from humans, right? They don't consume them, and are raised just like no-... human children?"

"Yes." Tiir wondered what the human's point was.

The prince blinked. "Then how do you know that you're not killing an Alpha Stigma bearer's parents or friends when you attack a human village? That wouldn't go over well, would it?" A pause. "I guess you can tell if someone is of your kind when you see them... but what if they're just currently not around for some reason?"

Tiir stared at the human. He wasn't capable of recognizing another bearer of the Divine Eyes on sight, specifically, but he _could _sense when one was near if he paid attention: even when he was preoccupied with feeding, the usually so ardent Voice would fade into a whisper, and if he got close enough – or if there were no humans around to pose a distraction –, it would cease urging him to kill entirely in favor of alerting him to the presence of kin. As a result, Tiir could easily avoid making the fatal mistake of killing his own simply by not attacking children, whose abilities might yet have to awaken.

However, when it came to their loved ones... "It's highly unlikely."

"But you can't be certain?"

Tiir opened his mouth and closed it again. It was true that he would likely hear about it if one of his comrades was in the vicinity, if nothing else then through rumors circulating amongst the local humans – Tiir didn't mingle with them if he could help it, but being bothersome vermin, they tended to be _everywhere_. However, some of his kind did manage to escape discovery for a while, and when it came to those who didn't even know about themselves yet...

"No," he finally said – slowly, wonderingly, as the realization sank in. "No, I can't."

It _was _unlikely. The chances were minimal, and he could say with reasonable certainty that it had never happened.

Should he ever make such a blunder, though, the consequences would be grave. However misguided it might be, however painful, those of his kind who gave humans their love did so earnestly and without reservation. After all, that was one reason why most of them died so young.

Killing such a human would equate to hurting his own kind. In the worst case, it would mean causing an Alpha Stigma bearer to lose himself and die as a result.

Having his kin's blood on his hands... it was the last thing Tiir wanted. He didn't think he would be able to bear the guilt.

"You've never considered this?" the human asked – strangely not in a taunting or even amused kind of voice, but in one filled with what appeared to be genuine surprise. A short silence. "You really must hate humans a whole lot." The man sounded thoughtful now, and a moment later, he got up from his chair to sit down in front of Tiir on the floor. "Is it because of Gastark?"

Tiir forced himself to concentrate on the conversation at hand. He could always sort out his principles later – it wasn't like he would get to devour a human village any time soon. "No," he said, balling his fists. "It's not just because of Gastark."

"But you do despise them more than, say, a random farmer passing by?"

"Yes," Tiir replied instantly, his voice almost a growl. "Gastark will pay."

"Well, at least we can agree on something. Not that my quarrel with them is quite as personal as yours, I suppose – they have yet to try and invade Salea, but when we attacked you, you were fleeing from them, weren't you? Lymeia told me," the prince explained before Tiir could ask. "She'd been tracking you for a while. She wasn't close enough to see much, but she did conclude that several bearers were killed in that battle."

"It always comes back to her, doesn't it?" Tiir bit out, but the venom in his words was not really directed at the prince, or even the magician.

Gastark...

Tiir wanted to tear off their limbs one by one.

"She is one of our finest, after all," the prince said casually, but he was looking at Tiir in a way that made it quite obvious that he was sensing the mood he was in.

Instead of backing away or otherwise concerning himself with the matter of self-preservation, though, he did the exact opposite. Tiir needed a few seconds to realize that the human's fingertips had stopped just an inch from his shoulder. That was when the man seemed to shake himself, and pulled back his hand.

Tiir fixed him with a disbelieving gaze. Had the human been trying to _comfort _him?

It was a preposterous thought. Tiir was fairly sure that despite his grief, he had not looked upset so much as _murderous_. Why would the human even _consider _touching him under those circumstances?

But the prince still didn't appear fearful, or disgusted, or even pleased; just uncertain.

"You probably don't want my condolences, huh? I'm sorry, I sometimes just don't think before I act. Still, if you want to talk or anything..."

Tiir wondered what the point of this charade was. "There's nothing to talk _about_," he bit out. "I want them dead. That's all there is to it."

"How many of your people did they kill?"

"Too many."

The human regarded him in silence for a while. "You blame yourself?" Had the man's voice been just a little softer, his expression just a little closer to pity, Tiir wasn't sure he would have managed to not go for his throat.

"What business of yours is it?" he snapped instead, angry at the human's prying, but even more furious at himself for being so transparent.

"None," the prince admitted easily. "Still, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. There wasn't anything you could have done."

"And how, pray tell, would _you _know that?"

"I've seen enough to know that if there had been, you would have done it." A pause. "And you did manage to save the children, didn't you?"

"Two of them," Tiir said, gritting his teeth. "And what a _great _job I did there."

"Well, it wasn't exactly a fair fight we engaged you in. And they _are _safe. Gastark wouldn't even know where to start looking, and we won't hurt them."

Tiir fixed the human with a cool stare. "Unless I give you a reason to."

"Are you going to?"

Tiir didn't respond. The answer was obvious.

"See," the human said. "Perfectly safe."

"Yes," Tiir ground out. "And I'm sure they're very _happy_."

The prince blinked at him. "They're not rotting away in some prison cell, if that's what you mean. I did make sure they would be treated well. They're probably worried about you, and I'm not saying it's perfect, but they should be all right."

Tiir felt pathetic for wanting to believe every single word coming out of the human's mouth. "Did you separate them?" he asked, because it was the only one of the questions that were tormenting him he might actually get an answer to.

The human hesitated, but then said, "No. We didn't want to upset them more than necessary - for various reasons."

"I see," Tiir said. This, at least, made sense. He was certain Ren and Karda were strong enough to not lose themselves easily, but the humans didn't know that. Their fear of the children was dangerous, but in this case, it might just turn out to be an advantage.

If the humans continued to be cautious, maybe the little ones did have some time before the situation became unbearable.

The prince sighed. "Gods, I'll be glad when this whole Council business is over. Then you can see that they are alright with your own eyes, and I won't have to deal with stuck-up nobles anymore. Most of them aren't so bad by themselves, but as a group they're impossible. I don't know how Mother puts up with them. Thinking about it, maybe it's a good thing my sister has no interest in the throne – she would be way too tempted to have them all executed just so they stop wasting her time."

Tiir was beginning to believe that woman to be quite the bloodthirsty creature. "Why don't you sick _her _on Gastark?"

The prince blinked at him, and then burst out laughing. "I like the way you think. And actually, that's exactly what will be happening. Over are the days when Salea's magic was only good for making vainglorious ceremonies even more pompous. She's been doing research for seven years now – Gastark will never know what hit them."

Tiir was skeptical about that. "Just seven years?"

"Well, obviously other counties have invested a lot more time, historically speaking, but for precisely that reason, quite a few of them have become complacent – just look at Runa! –, and it's not like anyone will _expect_ much from us in that regard. We'll have the element of surprise on our side, and there was already some research under the last two rulers. We also know how to use the advantages we already had efficiently, and did I mention my sister is a _genius_? Our chances still aren't the best, especially since we lack magicians who can put the weapons she provides to proper use, but we wouldn't be preparing for a war if we thought only casualties could come out of it."

Tiir still wasn't convinced, but he certainly wouldn't complain about anyone giving Gastark trouble.

On the other hand... "What are the chance that you will end up surrendering, after all?"

"Not high. My mother does not _do _surrender. Unless, I suppose, the situation was really hopeless." The human considered him. "You're worried about what would happen to you in such a case," he concluded. "To the children."

Tiir narrowed his eyes. "Does it surprise you?"

"No. It's perfectly understandable. But there shouldn't be any need to be concerned – they won't find out about the children. Annoying the Council may be, but they're not traitors. Even if one of them or anyone else involved _were _to betray Salea, though, they still wouldn't know their whereabouts, and Gastark is hardly going to waste resources on two lone Alpha Stigma bearers. In Valasea, only my mother and I could give up their location, and neither of us has an interest in handing them over to Gastark."

"So you would dispose of them before anyone could discover them." Tiir managed not to let rage get the better of him. At the end of the day, it was still better than having them die at the hands of Gastark.

"You really don't think my word is worth much, do you? They'd be brought out of the country, but the person looking after them is quite capable of keeping them alive _and_ away from Gastark. If you can't believe that I take my promises seriously, just assume we'd want to organize a resistance and use them for that purpose... or something. As for you, it wouldn't be _our _fault if you suddenly went berserk, would it?" The human grinned, then shrugged. "Either way, Salea will not go down easily."

Tiir wasn't completely satisfied with that answer, but he supposed it was good enough. At the very least, the human didn't have much of a reason to lie to him at this point, and even less of a reason to do Gastark any favors.

"As stimulating as conversing with you is," the human suddenly said, getting up, "I'm going crazy from sitting around all day. I need to catch some air. Do you mind?"

Tiir was slightly taken aback by the abrupt change of topic, but the prospect of being able to leave the building was an appealing one. Even the testing had been done inside the palace.

"It's the middle of the the night," he pointed out, just to make sure the human realized this.

"All the better! We won't have to worry about anyone seeing you. Even hypothetical spies from Gastark should have better things to do than run around the city at this hour."

Tiir couldn't argue with that logic. Neither did he want to. He stood, and let the smiling human lead him out of the room.

x x x

"And this is the temple," the prince announced. Apparently, his idea of 'catching some air' included giving Tiir a tour through the city.

Tiir, on the other hand, just found it unsettling that he was growing used to the human's oddness.

He took in the building in question. It wasn't as large as the palace, but not much smaller, either. It looked simpler, but paradoxically, that only made it seem more impressive. A long staircase, of an even brighter white than the building itself – or maybe that was just the light of the crescent moon shining through the clouds – led up to a half-opened double door.

"What does Salea worship?" Tiir inquired, knowing he was really making conversation for curiosity's sake alone this time, but past the point of caring.

"You'll have to ask our clerics that." Tiir looked at the human incredulously, and the prince chuckled. "No, really, it's complicated. We used to worship a god similar to Runa's, except that in Salea, the acting ruler was not only considered chosen by that god, but the embodiment of his will – so when King Vendran II decided to get rid of the priests and have his subjects worship the farther north's goddesses instead, no one really knew what to make of it. In the end, the new religion and the ones that followed didn't take hold, but the old one also kept losing influence, and today, we're just a bunch of heretics." The human winked at him. "Runa recently took it upon themselves to try and save our souls, for old friendship's sake, but, well... soul-sucking demon for a sister and all that."

At this point, Tiir strongly suspected that human customs made even less sense than humans themselves. "Why would the king back then have done such a thing?"

"There are many stories about that, actually. Some say he did it for his heir, who either would not have been able to inherit the throne or been killed had the King acted in accordance with the holy books. There are also stories about how he did it to win the hand of a woman from a neighboring nation, who refused to become the queen of a country whose priests expected her to bow down to her husband and live a life in his shadow. Other, less romantically inclined people believe he did it because he had gotten tired of having to share his power with the priesthood. And there are many more, if slightly less popular accounts. It was a long time ago, so there are no reliable records."

Tiir glanced at the human. "What do you think?" he asked, not sure why he cared, but intrigued nonetheless.

The prince tilted his head. "I don't know. Thirst for power seems the most likely cause, but it's also the least appealing one, so..." The human grinned. "Maybe I should just go with my sister's version. It features King Vendran the Drunk and Queen Anabelle the Bloody: 'It all started when, one morning, the High Priest stepped on Queen Anabelle's favorite cat's tail...'"

Tiir snorted.

"You should really meet her some time," the prince said. "I dare you to tell her to her face that she is 'merely an inferior creature'."

"She would kill me?" Tiir asked.

The human blinked at him.

And blinked again. "That was a serious question? All right, I think I really make her sound a lot more terrible than she actually is – which should be impossible. She wouldn't kill you. For one, she's neither unstable nor much inclined to go against Mother's orders. Also, red, glowy eyes that can absorb magic? To her, that's better than _cats_."

"Absorb magic and _devour humans_."

"Was that a threat or were you implying my sister would give a damn? Because I guarantee you that as long as you don't eat her _cats_, she will love you. And I don't just mean 'think of you as a lovely research subject' love you, but 'ask you to be her new best friend and raise lots of cute little kittens together' love you."

It was Tiir's turn to blink. "You said she wasn't unstable?"

"Well. Maybe a little, when cats and magic enter the equation."

Tiir just shook his head. He'd always known humans were bothersome, disgusting creatures at best, but he'd never realized they were this confusing.

x x x

That night, when they had returned to the palace and the prince was sound asleep in his bed, the second cat decided to make its appearance. It was slightly larger than the female one, its striped fur gray rather than brown, and all in all, it was more skittish than affectionate.

Tiir, who couldn't sleep, anyway, amused himself by trying to coax it into sitting in his lap. It took him the better part of the night, but in the end, he succeeded, and the cat fell asleep against his drawn up legs.

When morning came, the human took one look at him and declared, "You and Malyrei _really _would get along."

Tiir's answer consisted of a derisive snort, but he didn't stop petting the cat.

.

.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

See? I _told_ you cats make everything better. **  
**

Now they just need to turn out to really be Rule Fragments that have the ability to turn all the world's suffering into dango and no one will have any problems ever again (Ferris least of all).

...I promise at least no one will poke Tiir's eyes again?

Probably.

Echem. I swear I wasn't trying to troll Tiir with that conversation about frog legs (... much). The inferiority line of argument in regards to Eye bearers vs. humans will come up again, but since I don't see it as the main issue, I'll continue to not focus on it where I can in favour of, well, the whole "humans are evil" thing. Not that the two aren't linked in Tiir's mind.

I realize this fic suffers from a horrible lack of dango and I'm sure Ferris is not impressed, but look, it's the Paperwork of Doom! What would DenYuuDen be without the Paperwork of Doom? I just had to sneak it in. (Though most of it refused to leave Roland - something about how giving Sion a break could destroy the world.) It's not a sufficient replacement for dango, of course, but it's a start.

As you've probably noticed, much of this chapter ended up being about outlining Salea's cultural background. I hope I managed to make sense without it feeling like an info-dump. There's also some more headcanon regarding Tiir and the Iino Doue in this I was on the fence about, but I thought it worked as well as any alternative I could come up with, so I decided to just go with it.

The chapter title is a reference to William Blake's "The Tiger" this time. Because cats. ...Okay, not _only_ because cats, but they are why I suddenly remembered the poem when trying to come up with chapter names.

Next time: food jokes. The bad kind.

Till then!


	5. Take Your Breath Away

Nope, it did not take me months to edit this chapter, since I can't even use the excuse that it's longer than the previous one this time. Rather, there was an incident with the... mysterious Anti-Dango Group, yes! They delay fanfic chapters. Sort of like real life... and laziness. It's a conspiracy!

Just to be safe, I'm putting an additional _**warning**_ for vomiting here. Also, extreme dehumanization in the late second half of the chapter – there's one line in particular I don't know how to warn for, because if I wanted to get more specific the warning would have to be more explicit than the comment itself, so... proceed with caution? I don't think it's shocking by DenYuuDen standards, but. (And of course, all warnings from the prologue still apply.)

As usual, I'll dutifully keep myself from rambling and get to the chapter soon, but first, review reply time!

At acperience: Omg, thank you! I'm thrilled you liked the cats. And the dialogue. I had way too much fun writing those scenes, but then went over them again about a dozen times because I was unsure about so many details. It's great to see them well-received, and I'm also happy the humor during the experimentation bit worked for you. (And wah, do I know that feeling. I'm sure Tiir appreciates the sentiment, though... in some parallel universe or far off future where he doesn't have issues to the moon and back? One can always hope!)

So, that chapter. In which Tiir has no idea what he's doing but that's okay since it's what this fic is secretly all about.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Take Your Breath Away  
**

.

.

"Anything in particular you would like for breakfast?"

"No."

The human raised his eyebrows. "Are you always this unselective? My brain tissue feels insulted."

Tiir glanced at the man. "You have a very peculiar sense of humor."

"For a human?"

"No. In general." Tiir fell silent for a moment, then added, "Don't worry, I'm more picky when it comes to eating human scum."

The prince snorted. "My self-confidence is rising."

Tiir smirked at him.

"You know," the human said, "that expression in this context is kind of creepy. Let's stick to food that won't feel flattered by the attention." He paused. "Not that my _brain tissue _is feeling flattered, exactly, but... you get the idea."

"You're quite the-" Tiir broke off when a sudden wave of nausea hit him.

The prince blinked at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothi-" Tiir began, but then let his hand fly to his mouth in a reflexive attempt to keep down the contents of his stomach.

"Are you unwell?" the human asked, sounding concerned.

This wasn't good. He was going to vomit.

He didn't want to show such weakness in front of the enemy, and neither did he feel the desire to give the human that convenient a reason to treat him as a disgusting beast.

The prince knelt down next to him. "Can you get up?"

Tiir just shook his head. He had no illusions about what would happen if he moved even an inch now.

The taste inside his mouth was repulsive, but he wasn't going to _soil the carpet _like some animal. He hadn't fallen that far yet.

He tensed when after several seconds of watching him, the human laid a hand on his shoulder. "Just let it out. I can clean it up later." When Tiir didn't react, the prince sighed. "You really are stubborn. Wait here."

It wasn't like Tiir could do anything else.

The human got up, and returned a few minutes later with an emptied dog bowl. Tiir looked at him.

He could not be _serious_.

"It's the best I could do," the human said apologetically, putting the item down on the ground. "I don't think you can wait the fifteen minutes the servants would need to get a bucket here." A short silence. "Come on, it's not so bad. It will be easy to clean, at least."

Tiir was not about to content himself with that – except that he didn't have a choice. So he just leaned over the bowl, and tried to at least not get _himself _dirty.

He wouldn't have succeeded, but the human's fingers were suddenly in his face, pushing the hair out of the way. It wasn't as disturbing as having the man's other hand on his back, where it moved in gentle circles.

"All right?" the human inquired softly. "Just tell me if you want me to leave you alone."

Tiir knew he should have protested at least the second, so very clearly non-clinical touch, but he could barely muster up the energy to care. He threw up two times in a row, and when the human led him over to the bed and told him to lie down, he didn't fight him.

He allowed the prince to use a wet cloth to clean his mouth, too tired to even feel debased anymore.

"There were no poisons involved yesterday, were there?" the human asked.

"No." Not that Tiir was aware of, at least.

The prince nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose it could be the result of Lymeia's poisoned dart, but that would be a rather belated reaction. It might also have something to do with the Rule Fragment, but I don't think it's happened before. I guess you could just have caught something..." The human raised his hand, but then paused, searching Tiir's face.

When he couldn't find any indication that the gesture would be seen as intrusive, the prince carefully pressed his palm to Tiir's forehead. "It's not a high fever," he said after a heartbeat, removing his hand. "Would consuming magic help?"

"Maybe," Tiir said honestly. "Or it might just postpone the illness."

"Huh. Better sleep it off, then?"

"I suppose."

The human grinned. "Don't worry, I'm good at looking after sick people. As long as you don't start throwing up half-digested body parts, that is – then I'd join right in."

Tiir snorted. "It doesn't work like that."

"That's definitely reassuring." The prince rose. "Just rest," he said, pulling up the covers. "I'll get you something to drink."

He watched the man leave, and for the first time, Tiir thought he truly understood how easy it was to get deceived into believing that humans could be anything but a menace.

He didn't like it.

x x x

"You will continue to go after my kind?"

The human turned to him in what appeared to be surprise. "Why the sudden question?"

Tiir clenched his fists. "Just answer it," he hissed.

The prince considered him for a moment, then sat down at the edge of the bed. "It's not a simple matter," he said. "We're not going to become a second Gastark to you. Heck, we've not even gone through with crystallizing any types of Magic Eyes yet, though we're reasonably sure we have the process figured out, and so far we have no plans to. I don't condone going after children, and my mother isn't eager to, either."

Tiir scoffed, and the human shot him a wry look. "When this whole thing started, all we had were horror stories and reports of you devouring people in the South," he explained. "And while we're at it, allow me to use this opportunity to simultaneously admit that I was absorbed in foolish prejudices and point out that randomly attacking human villages is _not _going to improve things for you, except if you are planning to annihilate every human in existence, which could be slightly difficult to pull off."

Tiir narrowed his eyes at the man, but didn't argue. While he was not going to believe that it generally made a difference what he did or didn't eat – he knew that the fear and hatred humanity held for his kind ran far too deep for that –, it might be true that as far as this particular case went, his actions had endangered his kin.

"Anyway." The man regarded him, expression turning serious. "We're not planning to go for a massacre, but if we get the chance to capture some more Eye bearers alive..." He shrugged. "It's our country's policy to mind our own business, but with a war at our doorstep, we can't afford to be overly scrupulous. Gastark certainly isn't."

"I had noticed," Tiir bit out.

However, he supposed it was good enough, even if he wasn't sure how far he was willing to trust the human's words. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't need to feel like a total fool for no longer desiring this man's slow, painful death.

Perhaps a quick, clean one would do.

"I take it you are feeling better?" the prince asked, apparently not at all undeterred by his less than friendly tone.

"Yes," Tiir allowed. "Considerably so." Softly touching the longest strand of his hair, he hesitated, and finally added, "I appreciate your assistance."

The human seemed astonished for a moment, but then grinned at him. "You're welcome. Consider it payback for saving me from the Evil Laces."

"I didn't know humans were too stupid to dress themselves," Tiir remarked without venom.

"They aren't – that's just me."

Tiir tilted his head. "Are you a subspecies? I didn't think that was possible. What's lower than 'bottom of the ladder'?"

The prince huffed. "It's called being an _individual_." A pause. "Wait, I just insulted myself, didn't I?"

"Indeed you did."

"Damn. Well, oh lofty being with sublime red-glowing eyes, whose defeat at the paws of Lord Truffles the Terrible was a mere fluke, excuse this lowly one's limited intellectual capabilities. Not everyone has the privilege of enjoying brain tissue for dinner all the time."

Tiir smirked. "We could rectify that..."

"Are you offering to apprentice me in the undervalued art of _eating people_? That's very sweet of you, but I think I'll have to pass." The human waved his hand. "Vegetarian and all that."

"You really _are _strange."

"Says the guy who just volunteered to introduce me to the culinary pleasures of _brain tissue_. How about instead of looking at me like I would look at my breakfast if it suddenly started complaining about the weather, you use the opportunity to get some more rest? With what little sleep you've had these past few days, it's no surprise you ended up sick."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

The human shrugged. "I canceled the party. You could hardly have accompanied me like this, and I'm not leaving you with Lymeia in your current state. I'll still have to attend the Council meeting later, but I've asked Admiral Arsan to look after you then. Obviously he's not as great a conversationalist as I am – " a grin – "but he won't bother you. I'd say 'just ignore him and pretend he's food on legs', but, uh, no need to give you ideas, so let's leave it at: 'just ignore him'."

Tiir scoffed – the man in question hadn't even looked all that tasty.

The prince smiled at him, and Tiir decided he might as well follow at least the first part of his advice. He had no intention of being rendered so vulnerable while surrounded by humans ever again.

Resting his head back on the pillow, he watched the royal return to his desk and grab a piece of paper from a stack that had been two times as high the last time Tiir had seen it.

He supposed it wasn't so hard to sleep with a human in the room, after all.

x x x

When the prince left for the Council meeting, Tiir refused his offer to keep occupying the bed. It was bad enough that he had shown weakness in front of _one _human – he wasn't going to add to that, even if it was just a common soldier who, by himself, hardly posed a threat to him or his own.

He resumed his place next to the door, and listened as the soldier and the prince exchanged a couple of meaningless words before the latter stepped out of the room. Tiir noted that the young royal was treated by several of his subjects with a mixture of what appeared to be genuine respect and the curious sort of tolerant fondness Tiir figured was necessary to voluntarily keep around an overeager dog.

The combination seemed strangely fitting.

The soldier positioned himself almost directly opposite of Tiir, between bed and desk. He didn't sit down on the chair he could have comfortably grabbed from there, though, and instead stood straight with his back to the wall, eyes never leaving Tiir.

Tiir supposed now that he was healed and there was nothing _physically _barring him from killing every human inside the palace, the soldier no longer felt that he could afford being casual about his guard duties.

It would have been annoying in the long-run, but since he would be rid of the man again in a few hours at most, Tiir found himself amused at having the human's undivided attention.

The smile he shot the soldier was not a friendly one.

When at some point, the female cat – Tiir refused to acknowledge the animals' ludicrous names – walked over to him, he picked it up without breaking eye-contact with the soldier. He enjoyed the suspicion he found in the man's gaze, and made it a point to lazily pet the animal until it was half-asleep in his lap, purring contently.

However, he had expected the soldier to be angered or at least annoyed by his smug nonchalance, not shake his head while making a noise that sounded a lot like an incredulous snort.

Tiir attempted to stare the offending human down, and this time, what he got definitely _was _a snort. "Are all monsters this petty?"

"I wouldn't know," Tiir said. "Are you?"

"Are you suggesting _we _are the monsters?" the soldier asked. "Hate to break it to you, but we're not the ones eating people."

Tiir showed his teeth. "I don't eat _people_, either."

"So what are humans, in your opinion?" the soldier wanted to know, a light note of disbelief entering his voice and adding to the scorn that was already there. "Pigs?"

"That's a contradiction of terms, I believe," Tiir retorted, still smirking. "There may be similarities, but I would hate to insult an undeserving party. Pigs are decidedly less disgusting."

"You've got quite the mouth on you, haven't you?" the soldier did sound irritated now. Good. "I hope for you that you haven't been talking to His Highness like that, or I will have to teach you some manners."

Tiir smiled. "You can't touch me."

"Try me."

"I thought that's what I was doing."

They gazed at each other.

Finally, the soldier crossed his arms. "I don't know why Prince Ecylan bothers with you. He must see _something _in you if he keeps refusing to hand you over to Lord Remdra, but from what I can tell, you're just a wretched monster with an ego."

"Maybe your prince _likes _my ego," Tiir suggested with a sinister grin. "Maybe he enjoys being told that he is but a repulsive creature, lower than a pig. Perhaps, deep down, he knows it's the truth."

The soldier looked about ready to throttle him now, and it only increased Tiir's mirth.

"Careful," the man growled.

The implied threat, so very typical, didn't impress Tiir, and he didn't pretend otherwise, relishing the human's helpless anger.

The man was not allowed to harm him, but that wasn't important. What mattered, what made this so _perfect_, was that there was nothing he could do to those Tiir cherished. It probably hadn't even crossed his mind – he wanted to hurt _Tiir_, and simple creature that he was, it would never occur to him to do so by proxy. Even if he were to realize that the possibility existed, he lacked the half-Gastark magician's knowledge and efficiency. Asking his queen about the children's location and side-stepping his prince's orders that way was likely something he couldn't even fathom.

With this human, Tiir neither had to watch his every word and action, nor did he have to try and make sense of any highly unusual behavior the man displayed. There were no niceties, no pretenses, no risks involved – short of attacking him, there was nothing Tiir _couldn't _do.

It felt good.

Although Tiir didn't offer a verbal retort this time and silence fell over them, the hostility inside the room remained almost palpable, and it continued to be until the prince returned. Once he did, the soldier left after speaking some words in private with the other human. Tiir could imagine what those had been about, but he wasn't worried.

The soldier would hardly have gone into detail – humans did have a habit of shooting the messenger, after all –, and the prince already knew that Tiir did not think fondly of his kind. At most, this would lead to the young royal letting his true self show as a result of having been humiliated in front of a subject, and though Tiir was aware that such a thing could end badly, he was beginning to think that it would be more dangerous if the man kept up whatever it was that he had been doing so far.

Tiir no longer knew how to act or even what to believe, and it unsettled him; perhaps more than that. He knew the human was trying to manipulate him, but he couldn't see why – for what purpose. He knew the human feared him, detested him, but he couldn't _see _any of that, either.

It didn't make sense. He had never been bad at reading others, but he couldn't detect any deception. The prince seemed too honest, too open, too friendly, too _not human_. He was, without doubt, the enemy, but the fact that he did not claim otherwise only added to the confusion. Despite the repugnant method through which he controlled Tiir, he lacked ruthlessness, lacked self-righteousness, lacked scorn. Lacked _cruelty_.

And even now, when he walked over to Tiir with an expression on his face that made it clear he had heard _enough _from his subordinate, he looked more tired than angry.

"You've really gone ahead and done it now," the human said. "Admiral Arsan has connections to _three_ members of the Council out of twelve, not counting my mother and myself, and I have a hard enough time convincing them as it is." When Tiir just regarded him in silence, the prince asked, "Was there a _reason _for what you did?"

"None you would care to hear about."

"Great. Just... great. You realize you won't be able to see the children before this thing with the Council has been sorted out, right?"

Tiir felt his fingernails dig into his palms. "Is that a threat?"

"Shit," the human said, running a hand through his hair in frustration, "it's not a threat. I'm just saying you're not helping either of us." He went quiet for an instant, then shook his head and added, "And I'm stressed and overreacting. It's not like Arsan would go behind my back like that. Just... let me calm down for a moment, all right?"

Tiir watched the human step over to the window, where he stuck his head outside to breathe some of the fresh night air. Finally, the man turned around again and sat down at the edge of the bed, from where he eyed Tiir rather wearily.

Tiir waited for the human to speak, but when he _did_, the words coming out of his mouth were not at all what Tiir had expected. "I'm sorry," the man said – simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I sort of had a bad evening."

It wasn't the first time he had apologized to Tiir, and yet, it was the first time it felt like he was doing so for an actual _mistake _he had made.

Humans weren't supposed to do such a thing – wronging his kind wasn't supposed to mean anything to them.

And shouldn't royalty be more prideful? Humans were obsessed with status and wealth – even if Tiir had been a human, the prince's words hardly warranted an outright admission of guilt by their standards.

In the end, Tiir decided to ignore the man's oddities as always and focus on what was relevant. "What's the matter?"

The prince sighed. "I knew the Council was going to be difficult, but I underestimated Lord Remdra's influence. He views it as a personal insult that he's not allowed to do any _research_, and now he's claiming I'm making things up as to not lose face and that the real problem is that you're too dangerous and locked up in a dungeon somewhere. Never mind it doesn't make sense – apparently, me having canceled that party today counts as irrefutable evidence."

"Why not simply prove him wrong, then?" Tiir asked, not seeing the problem.

"Easier said the done," the prince told him. "There won't be any more festivities in the next ten days, so unless you feel an inexplainable desire to get directly acquainted with the Council, there's a good chance there will be no progress before then."

"Why not?"

The human blinked at him. "What?"

"Why not bring me along to a Council meeting?"

"I didn't think you would be thrilled."

"I'm not," Tiir said. "But I don't mind."

"Are you sure? The Council will agree eventually one way or the other, and if you went, you'd have to pretend to be..."

"Tame?" Tiir suggested with a scoff.

"I was going for something more along the lines of _harmless_, but yes, that's what it comes down to."

"I don't care," Tiir said flatly. "Guarantee me that I can see the children as soon as your Council has caved in, and I'll be your docile _pet _in front of them as much you'd like."

"All right," the prince said after a moment of contemplating this. "You'll be able to see one of them in the first few days after the Council has given its approval, and the other one not too much later. That was pretty much the plan, anyway. However, the Council meeting won't be pleasant, and should you change your mind before tomorrow evening, let me know."

The prince got up and stepped closer with a sigh. "If you want this to work, you can't so much as look at those nobles the wrong way, and considering that to the vast majority of them, those children are nothing but potential research subjects, that might prove difficult. They're not exactly subtle about it, either."

Tiir clenched his fists, but it wasn't like any of that came as a surprise. "What do you want me to do?"

"Aside from not eat them even when they might deserve it?" The human's grin didn't seem forced, but rather... strained. Tiir supposed it was good to know that he wasn't the only one this thing was putting in a decidedly foul mood. "You'll have to kneel next to me. Don't look at any of them directly, and don't let them provoke you. They already have a fair idea of what you're capable of, so it's not a matter of convincing them that you would be dangerous to our enemies, but of making them agree that you don't pose a risk to our empire. All in all, I guess 'tame' describes the impression we're going for pretty well."

Tiir inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"No longer feeling queasy?" the prince asked in a sudden change of topic.

"I'm fine." Distantly, Tiir wondered how often he had already assured the human of this in the past few days.

"Good." The prince grinned – this time, it seemed genuine. "After all, no fun throwing up in front of the Council if there are no half-digested body parts."

"I still fail to see why you would find me devouring your kind amusing."

"I thought we had established that I have a twisted sense of humor?" the prince asked. "Besides–" he waved his hand dismissively– "I really only find it amusing in theory."

Well, of course. Tiir hadn't expected the human to find the Iino Doue anything less than detestable _in practice_.

But before he could scoff at the unnecessary reminder, the prince tilted his head, and added, "Though I suppose it depends on the circumstances."

"What? As long as it isn't a _civilian_, you don't care if I consume members of your species?"

"I might _care_, but as I've said before, if it was an actual enemy of yours, I could hardly fault you for it."

"An actual enemy?" Tiir smirked. "That would include you."

"Well, yes, and you won't find me claiming that it would be _morally reprehensible_ of you to have me for breakfast. However, I _will _repeat that while my brain tissue might seem 'appetizing', I have it on good authority that I am not worth taking a bite. Never doubt my sister's judgment." The last sentence was added with a grave nod. "Besides, I'm sure eating something you've conversed with before leads to indigestion – did no one ever tell you not to play with your food?"

"No."

"Uh... right. Still, my point stands – I would make for a terrible meal. No nutritious value at all."

"You're an odd human."

"Does that mean I've graduated from 'strange', or are we talking synonyms?"

Tiir snorted.

"Speaking of food, it probably wouldn't hurt if you didn't eat anything before morning, but do you think you could keep down some soup?"

Tiir wasn't so sure about that; but it didn't matter, anyway. "I'm not hungry," he said truthfully.

Well, _mostly _truthfully. There were certain types of food he wouldn't mind at all.

"All right," the prince said. "I'll just get you some more tea, then." He smiled. "I hope you're not sick of chamomile yet."

Tiir didn't reply. He really wished the human would start acting like one.

x x x

"You shouldn't sleep on the floor when you're ill."

Tiir just regarded the prince in silence, and the human sighed. "Come on – I'd feel bad. If you don't want to share, you can have the bed for tonight."

"Are you offering to sleep on the floor?" Tiir asked, trying to sound contemptuous rather than simply disbelieving.

He didn't know much about royals, but he was fairly sure they weren't supposed to put a prisoner's comfort before their own. More importantly, no _human _was supposed to do so – certainly not when the prisoner was a bearer of the Divine Eyes.

However, the prince seemed determined to defy sense. "I don't mind," he said with a shrug. "I'm not _that _much of a spoiled brat."

Tiir narrowed his eyes. "I don't need your _charity_."

"It's not charity," the human claimed. "Letting someone who's ill sleep on the floor is bad manners, which means I am purely motivated by self-interest. My mother would have my head if she got reason to suspect I slept through even more etiquette lessons than she was aware of."

Tiir doubted the woman would think it a matter of etiquette in the first place, but after all that had happened, he would feel ridiculous if he continued to argue the issue. He couldn't deny that while he had no problem sleeping on the ground, the bed _had _been comfortable.

Still, he didn't want to feel like he owed the human something.

"You don't have to move to the floor," he said blandly. "If you aren't worried about getting sick yourself, that's your problem."

The prince gave him much too bright a smile. "I'm not," he declared cheerfully. "There's a good chance it's not contagious, and if it is, I've probably already caught it."

Tiir snorted. A moment later, he was standing in front of the human, who still refused to exhibit normal behavior. He seemed mildly startled, but didn't get up from his place at the foot of the bed, and in fact barely even leaned back in surprise.

Instead, he tilted his head. "Do you always do that?"

"No," Tiir said. "Only when I dislike someone."

The prince laughed. "All right, then. I'll try to get used to it." Without haste, he rose. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I have to get Lord Truffles some fresh water before I can call it a day."

Tiir wordlessly stepped aside to let the human through, and after a brief moment of hesitation did as the man had suggested.

No ten minutes later, he was indeed sharing a bed with the prince. Tiir needed a while to make up his mind, but finally decided it felt more surreal than anything. There was enough space between them as to not make him feel cramped, but just _knowing _that the human was there was distracting.

He was used to sleeping alone. Sometimes the children would have nightmares or simply be looking for comfort and ask him to stay with them, and often Ene would be resting just a step away, but this was different.

It was so for many reasons, but the most important one was that he was sharing a bed with a _human_.

The whole thing was preposterous.

The prince didn't seem similarly concerned, though. While Tiir couldn't help but watch the other man's every move with all the careful attention of a hawk on the hunt, the human soon turned his back to him with a yawn.

Tiir continued to gaze at him – but just when he was beginning to think the prince had fallen asleep already, the man suddenly spoke up, "I can _feel _you glaring at me. Just tell me you're not admiring the soft, highly palatable texture of my brain."

Tiir snorted. "You might not be worried about getting sick, but I have no intention of catching whatever it is that you are inflicted by. At this point, _nothing _about your head looks tempting to me."

"Are you saying I'm no longer on your snack list, or do you mean to convey that you're eyeing my spleen instead?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

The human huffed. "Careful. You know those people who keep pulling on the covers throughout the night while appearing to be asleep, until they are warm and cozy and you are freezing and forever left to wonder whether they did it on purpose? I can be one of those."

"You'd deny someone who is ill their blanket?" Tiir asked. "I suppose you really can't expect any decency from a human – even from one with a _condition_."

"What can I say? I'm evil. Though I resent the notion that my corrupt personality has anything to do with what species I happen to belong to. I've worked very hard to reach this level of depravity."

"Obviously. Do I need to worry about my pillow, too?"

"That depends. Do I need to worry about my spleen?"

"I'll have to think about it."

"M-hm. Then until you arrive at a conclusion, please try not to stare a hole into my head. It could ruin the taste, the bedclothes and the day of the poor servant who'd eventually discover the leftovers. I myself wouldn't be too happy about it, either, but I have a feeling that would be the least of your concerns."

"True," Tiir said, mostly referring to the last part. He had no idea why the human kept joking about the issue, and even less of an idea why he went along with it, but at the moment, he didn't want to think about that.

Instead, he rolled onto his back, deciding that while he wouldn't leave himself as glaringly wide open for attack as the human had, it was all right to let his guard down a little. It wasn't like he had much to lose by doing so, anyway.

To his surprise, he found that conversing with the prince had left him feeling almost at ease.

"Good night," the human said, sounding oddly pleased. Tiir didn't bother to reply to him, but a few heartbeats later, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to succumb to the fatigue he had been ignoring for so long.

x x x

"Just remember," the human said when they left for the Council meeting, "they have no actual authority over you or the children. Once they've given their approval, the matter is almost completely out of their hands. Whatever they might have to say beyond that is ultimately irrelevant."

Tiir acknowledged the words in silence. He followed behind the prince – close enough to make himself appear less like a threat and more like he was under the control of a _master_, but retaining enough of a distance as to not seem disrespectful.

He already hated it.

However, the human had been asking him whether he was certain about attending the meeting all day, and he wasn't about to back out _now_. Besides, there were things more important than the pride he had already discarded.

He barely allowed himself the time to take in the room in which the meeting was held: it was large, lavishly decorated with tapestries and paintings, and had big windows that were half-covered by midnight blue drapes. There was a long wooden table placed in the center, around which most of the humans were already seated. One end was without a chair, the other was occupied by the queen. The prince sat down next to her, and Tiir knelt down to his left on the claret carpet, head bowed. He ignored the stares, the whispers – they didn't mean anything to him.

It wasn't long until the queen commanded silence and the meeting commenced. From there, Tiir only needed a few minutes to fully understand why the prince disliked the procedures. The nobles were loud, self-important and generally annoying – in short, they were all very much _human_. Barely a handful seemed at least _somewhat _reasonable.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tiir could make out a tall, broad-shouldered man on the right side of the table, next to the queen. As far as Tiir could tell, he looked more like a warrior than an aristocrat, and the light coloring of his hair, lighter than that of the prince, did not seem to be common in Salea. He was the only human present who had yet to say a word.

Another man, this one to the left of the prince and right in front of Tiir, appeared to be the warrior's exact opposite. He was slender, dark in hair and eyes, and he talked perhaps more than anyone else at the meeting, though also more coherently. He voiced some concerns – what if the Eye bearer went out of control, what if Gastark realized what was going on and attacked sooner than expected –, but he seemed interested mostly in the possible advantages of the prince's plan. He sounded like a scholar.

Somewhere towards the other end of the table, there was a woman Tiir could not see from his position on the floor who kept agreeing with him, adding several points of her own – the element of surprise the arrangement would give them, the possibility of deterring neighboring countries from going to war with Salea, an opportunity to learn more about the 'Cursed Eyes' – and otherwise elaborating on ideas the scholar only brought up in passing, thus adding them to a very convincing overall argument mostly in favor of the prince's motion.

A third man, whom Tiir could barely see, either, but who seemed to be somewhat older than all the other humans in Tiir's view, kept asking question after question, clearly meaning to shed doubt on the validity of their claims and being fairly successful in doing so. Rather than reason, he used fear to sway the rest of the Council, throwing the words 'monsters', 'beasts' and 'could go mad at any moment' around more than any of the other humans. It wasn't long until Tiir learned that the man was the infamous Lord Remdra, and suddenly, he was genuinely glad to not have gotten stuck with _that_ human. He wasn't sure it was _possible _to resist the temptation of ripping out his throat.

This impression increased when the man got up abruptly half-way through the meeting, stalked over to him and grabbed his hair, declaring, "He doesn't look like much to me, anyway."

Tiir suppressed a wince when the noble pulled his head up and forced him to look at him. It wasn't nearly as hard as holding back the hateful snarl and keeping his face devoid of emotion, the gaze with which he met the human's disdainful stare impassive rather than loathing.

For a moment, no one moved. Even the most talkative ones of the humans had gone remarkably quiet. Tiir could practically taste the apprehension, the anticipation.

"Lord Remdra." The prince's voice cut through the silence like a knife. Tiir had never heard it sound so cold. "Leaving your seat in the middle of the meeting without excusing yourself is an insult to everyone present. This includes your sovereign. May I assume you were merely not thinking, rather than acting in contempt?"

The man released Tiir as if burned, stepping back in a haste and focusing his attention on the prince. "Your Highness! Surely you are not suggesting I would-"

"I'm not suggesting anything," the prince said, his tone taking on a more neutral quality. "I merely seek to avoid a misunderstanding. You must realize that your behavior is becoming more inappropriate by the day."

"I-" The noble glanced at the queen as if hoping for her to come to his aid, but when she just gazed back at him in silence, the man reddened and took another step back. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," a bow, "Your Highness," another bow, not quite as low, "I meant no disrespect. I am only worried about the potential consequences of placing the creature right at the heart of our empire. I don't doubt your judgment in keeping it alive, but I believe it would be wise to get it out of the city."

"To one of your research facilities?" The prince was sounding almost friendly now.

"Yes," the noble answered, surprisingly candid. "I think it would be prudent to study the creatures until we have any concrete use for them."

"Possibly. However, as you know, several experiments have already been conducted, and since we have reason to assume that Gastark sent people to Runa's capital to threaten their king directly, it's _also _prudent to have one more weapon at hand which they wouldn't expect to be at our disposal."

"You say experiments have already been conducted," a woman farther down the table, one whose voice Tiir had heard before during the meeting but whom he hadn't really taken note of until now, spoke up, "but that's only true for the Iino Doue, isn't it? Shouldn't we also research into the Alpha Stigma?"

Tiir tensed.

"There's no need," the prince replied smoothly, and Tiir realized that of course he would have expected this question. "The Alpha Stigma is by far the most common of the Cursed Eyes. We already have all the information on it we need – trying to gain more would likely require us to damage the subjects. It wouldn't be worth it. If anything, the Alpha Stigma would be useful in researching _magic_, but if we decide to go that route, it will be under the supervision of my sister. It's not that I don't trust Lord Remdra," the royal added mildly, "but I don't think he has much experience with children. We wouldn't want them harmed by accident, would we?"

"Children," a man scoffed. "They can hardly be called that. I hear those monsters are difficult to kill, and besides, what do we need _both _of them intact for, anyway?"

"Well," the woman who had first brought up the topic said in a thoughtful voice, "I suppose we could breed them."

Tiir almost tore her apart right then and there.

The prince's hand made contact with his shoulder, and his first impulse was to lash out at him; but the touch was brief, unobtrusive – almost hesitant –, and made it easy for Tiir to remember that reacting in anger was not something he could afford at the moment. He told himself that she wasn't worth it, that there was nothing she could do even if she wanted to, and lowered his head again to hide his fury.

He was shaking with rage, but none of the nobles seemed to notice.

The meeting went on in a more disciplined fashion, and when it ended, the Council was as good as won over. The nobles paid their respects to their queen one by one and finally left the room either alone or in pairs, until only the prince, his mother and the warrior were left.

The latter had kept his silence until the last hour of the meeting, when he had started backing up the prince by pointing out additional strategical advantages of his plan, as well as agreeing with the younger man that subjecting the children to military training at this point was more likely to make them volatile than useful. Judging by the way he spoke, he was indeed experienced as a soldier.

The queen had waited even longer to make her opinion known, but in the last minutes of the meeting announced that the risk involved in this was minimal, and that while the enemy couldn't afford to waste even half their resources on them, Gastark was in possession of enough _crystals_ that trying to beat them with their own weapons would be foolish when they clearly had better options.

Tiir still wanted to kill something, but now that the worst of the humans were gone, it was decidedly easier to ignore the urge.

"Thank you for your support, Mother, High Marshal Gareyn," the prince said, getting up.

"I didn't do anything beyond what I had assured you of," the queen said. "This is your achievement."

The high marshal nodded in agreement. "Nothing I said went against my conscience – your reasoning was sound."

"Mostly," the queen added meaningfully.

The prince didn't seem bothered. Tiir glanced at him to find that the man was practically beaming. "Still, I couldn't have done it without the both of you."

The queen snorted, but it didn't sound very scornful. Tiir also noted that she didn't contradict her son.

"There are no problems?" the high marshal asked. Tiir felt the human's gaze on him, but didn't look up again.

"None at all," the prince told the man cheerfully. "We're getting along perfectly."

"I'm sure you are," the queen said, lacing her words with not quite subtle amounts of irony. "Try not to miss next week's ball, at least."

"Will Lady Livarys be there?" The young royal sounded hopeful.

"Most likely," the high marshal said. "She's been talking about how much she misses you."

"Give her my regards, then, and tell her I'm sorry. I've been kind of busy – though I suppose she knows that already."

"She does, and I will."

"Do you still have a crush on her?" the queen asked nonchalantly.

"Mother!" the prince exclaimed.

Next to the woman in question, the soldier chuckled.

"It was only a question," Salea's monarch said. "Now go on. I know you're anxious to get out of here."

"Thank you." The young royal cleared his throat. "Have a pleasant evening – Mother, High Marshal."

After briefly inclining his head, the prince glanced at him, and Tiir rose. He followed the man outside without so much as acknowledging the other two humans' presence.

x x x

"Are you all right?" the prince asked once they had returned to his chambers. He sounded like he genuinely cared, but also cautious – as if he expected Tiir to not appreciate the concern at all.

He had the right idea.

"Just perfect," Tiir snapped.

The human cringed. "I'm really sorry about Lord Remdra. And about..."

"Your pathetic excuse for a species as a whole?"

"I'm almost inclined to answer that with 'yes', but let's stick to blaming individuals." The human paused. "A whole lot of individuals."

"Well, in that case, let me inform you that I would like to tear _a whole lot of individuals _to pieces."

Another cringe. "Understandable. So... even though you did it for your own reasons, thanks for holding back."

Tiir's reply consisted of a derisive snort.

The prince went on, "And for attending in the first place. It would have taken them _forever _to come around."

Tiir just continued to _glare _at the human.

The prince sighed. "You have every right to be angry. I'll keep my end of the bargain, but I understand if you don't feel like talking to me right now." He fell silent for a moment, then, in a concerned voice, asked, "Does it still hurt?"

It took Tiir a second to realize that he was talking about the noble from before. He scoffed. "I'm not some fragile _human_."

"Right. Well... I won't bother you, then. Lord Truffles can wait another hour for his walk, and there are some more petitions waiting to be read. Feel free to interrupt me any time, though."

Tiir didn't reply.

The princes' face took on a resigned expression, and with another sigh, he walked over to his desk.

x x x

Through narrowed eyes, Tiir watched the human pick up a quill and sign yet another one of the papers.

He reminded himself that they were all the same – fearful, savage creatures that were everything they claimed his kind was.

Vermin that needed to be exterminated.

Only that way would his comrades be able to live without being persecuted, and only that way would the children have a happy future to look forward to. There was no peaceful coexistence possible between their races – the reasons were obvious and Salea's Council just one more embodiment of them.

That was all they were: foolish, inferior beings who didn't know their place.

How _dare_ they? They hunted down his kind, talked about the children like they were _cattle_, and then they claimed _they _were the monsters?

Tiir hated them, despised them, wanted to rip them limb from limb.

And yet...

And yet, for some reason, he found that even if he had the liberty to tear apart the human in front of him, doing so would not be very satisfying. The man irritated and angered him, but not at all in the same way Gastark or those nobles did. In spite of himself, Tiir was intrigued by him – by the novelty of his peculiar perspective.

He thought that it would be easier to loathe the man if he had objected more when Tiir had let him know what exactly he thought of his people. But the prince hadn't even _tried _to defend his countrymen, and the fact that he had all but agreed with him kept gnawing at Tiir. That wasn't how a human was supposed to behave.

He also couldn't help but be somewhat impressed by the prince's apparent aptitude for diplomacy. It was obvious that the man had directed the discussion expertly, and ultimately managed to use all opposition to his advantage seemingly without breaking a sweat. Tiir was almost willing to believe that he was capable of keeping his word, and had been from the start. He had furthermore noted that unlike everyone else similarly vocal during the meeting, the prince had never once used the word 'monster' to refer to the children or even Tiir himself.

It didn't mean much, but it made Tiir slightly more inclined to not hold him responsible for the general audacity and ignorance of his kind. He was a human, but whatever the reason, he had yet to conduct himself like one, and for all that Tiir desired to get away from him and his godforsaken country, he didn't even particularly care to see him suffer for his actions. Tiir _would _kill the man for keeping him from his comrades and trespassing against the children, but if it turned out that the two of them truly weren't being mistreated, he really wouldn't drag it out. There seemed to be no point.

Tiir briefly wondered how things were going at the Headquarters, but he wasn't too concerned about how his comrades there were faring without him – no more than usual. He was an asset to the group, but not vital. It was not much more than pure luck that he had survived this long in the first place, and even if Tiir hated the thought of them putting themselves at risk that way, there were those who could take over his position as the figurehead.

He had faith in the Leader, and though he felt uneasy not being able to aid her and their cause – for not being able to relieve her of her burden even a little –, at the moment, he was more worried about Ren and Karda.

Not much longer and he would be able to see them. Not much longer and he would know how much he was willing to risk to get them away from the humans, and how dearly Salea would have to pay.

And so, Tiir waited.

.

.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Uhm... yay, no one died?

Can't have the mood (relatively) non-murderous for too long. The bad food jokes would take over.

I didn't want to end the chapter on such a, well, dramatic note, but this seemed like the best place to cut it off. _Maybe_ Tiir will cool down a little in between chapters~. I could have kept editing forever and that's only going to get worse from here, so I really need to kick myself and introduce a rule that says if I can't find what exactly I want to change about a scene within a week I have to move on. (Also, as it stands, I've posted almost half of what exists of this fic now, so I have to to write faster or the updating process will slow down even more eventually. Gah.)

Posting issues aside, I think I'm doing something wrong and the epithets will eat me for it. Tiir could at least deign to care about the _cats_' names, for cake's sake. But he'll get there... I hope.

The chapter title comes from the song "I Will Not Bow" by Breaking Benjamin this time. In particular, I felt the double-meaning of the line worked nicely for this.

I hope you had fun reading!

Next time we'll see: perfectly normal conversations taking a turn for the weird (I swear I have no idea what happened there), deep theological and philosophical discussions (not really) and more people than just Tiir having no idea what they are doing (surprise, surprise). In short, yet another horrible lack of dango.

Till then!


	6. On a Wire

*looks anywhere but at the date* Oh, hey, it's the longest chapter yet! No wonder the editing process took... some... time. It's not that I got distracted or procrastinated because certain bits frustrated me or anything.

...As long as I got somewhere in the end?

For this chapter, I think I should come out and say that I went with Tiir knowing nothing about the Goddesses or anything related to them at this point. Also, the canon legends addressed in more detail are both from the anime (first and last episode), though I did take one tiny bit of information from the novel version of the latter. (Uhm, way to sound vague. I hope no one is expecting me to go deep into Fate Of The World Business now.)

But omg, the reviews made me so happy! Okay, they always do, but then there came more when I didn't expect it at all!

So, the remaining replies and then that chapter, yes...

To acperience: Thank you, glad you enjoyed Tiir's rather horrific encounter with the Council! At least his suffering was not in vain~. But yep, still agreeing with the hug thing - can't rely on just the cats for fluff and comfort. Too bad the only two characters in this story he'd readily accept one of the non-blown variant from are going to remain absent for at least a while longer. Not that he'd -expect- anyone else to try and hug him... *hums innocently* Though now I'm picturing some regular human showing up in front of Tiir and blowing him a hug like other people blow kisses and Tiir's brain dying because whut. Maybe a normal hug wouldn't be so bad, after all?

To Random Reader: Kya, thank you, I'm happy you're liking the long chapters! The one coming next is going to be a bit shorter than usual, but I hope I'll also have it up more quickly to make up for that. And ha, omg, I thought about the rating for a long time before I went, "well, character who eats people..." and just stuck with M, but I wondered if that might be potentially misleading. Because yeah, no scenes rated M for, echem, _other_ reasons planned for this fic - I mean, at this point I can hardly think of two characters in it who wouldn't both be creeped out by the mere idea. So I'm thrilled you clicked at and are enjoying the story despite the rating confusion!

And here comes the chapter. Enjoy~

* * *

**Chapter 5: On a Wire  
**

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"All right, this is awkward," the prince declared the day after the Council meeting. It was late noon, and they were walking through the palace gardens side by side, the large black dog strolling leisurely behind them. "I don't care if it's just insults or even an ode to my spleen, but at least _talk_ to me. Please?"

Tiir shot the human a cool look, and continued on in silence.

It was better this way – the man was too confusing. Tiir was beginning to believe that the young royal had meant every word he'd said to him so far, but that only made distancing himself from him more important. Either this human was the most shameless liar Tiir had ever met – which wasn't at all improbable, considering that he was a _human_ –, or he was simply insane; a temporary anomaly that needed to be disregarded until it inevitably corrected itself.

Tiir wouldn't allow his beliefs to be shaken. Doubt was a weakness he couldn't afford.

It seemed, though, that the prince wasn't easily deterred. "Come on. There must be something about Salea you would like to know. Things I strictly _can't_ tell you aside, I'll answer whatever questions you might have."

Tiir tried not to glance at the man as he quickly reassessed the situation. He couldn't deny the appeal of that offer. Though the prince hadn't been overly secretive in the first place, Tiir had carefully avoided showing an interest in anything that was actually relevant – issues concerning the safety of the children excepted. He knew better than to give the humans cause for suspicion.

However, now that the prince was practically _asking_ him to pry, any inquiries he might make that would normally seem suspect to his enemies could easily be interpreted as a mere act of spite. Of course, there was no guarantee he would get an answer regardless, but there was nothing to stop him from trying. An opportunity to test the waters with this low a risk might never come again.

It wasn't much of a dilemma. Ultimately, gathering information was more important than keeping the human at arm's length.

There was quite a bit of knowledge to be gained from this that could prove useful in the future, but the first question which came to mind didn't have a lot to do with that. "The crystal you had," Tiir said without preamble. "How did you get it?"

He didn't bother to ask _where_ they'd gotten it. The prince had already claimed that Salea had never crystallized any of the Divine Eyes themselves, and there was only one other country capable of doing so – or at least, that was what Tiir hoped.

The prince turned to him, apparently too startled by the nature of Tiir's query to be happy about having gotten the desired reaction. "It wasn't easy," he finally said. "Gastark's King usually only sends his most trusted, and most capable, people after Eye bearers. Breaking into his residence and simply stealing the crystals from _there_ proved impossible – the risk would have been ridiculous, not that that came as much of a surprise. Turns out, though, that when Gastark goes after a single, isolated Eye bearer, they might use a trusted, but not _quite_ so skilled individual. In other words, someone not in the possession of a Rule Fragment. Lymeia caught up to him at the border and took the crystal he'd been given to cause his target to go out of control. As for the man himself... chances are Gastark will never find the body."

Tiir allowed himself a brief moment to appreciate the death of an enemy of his kind. "The Alpha Stigma bearer?"

"Hopefully long gone when Gastark realized something was off."

Tiir narrowed his eyes. "She didn't go after them?"

"She didn't even know where to find them. The soldier she'd attacked wasn't very forthcoming with information, for some reason."

Tiir snorted. He supposed the mage woman hadn't asked him for it _nicely_, either.

He decided to use the opportunity to get a better grasp on the Salean court's inner workings.

"You seemed close to the high marshal," he observed, hoping it was as innocuous a way to broach the subject as he'd surmised.

The prince blinked at him. "Yes," he admitted easily. "I've known him since forever. He's my mother's lover."

Tiir stared at the human. That wasn't the answer he had expected.

The young royal chuckled. "Sorry, I'm used to people knowing these things." He tilted his head to the side. "It's not a secret, especially in Valasea and among the upper class. It's not unusual, either. In Salea, marriage has another status than in most other countries, especially when it concerns nobles – it's a way to create a formal alliance first and foremost, the most final sort of partnership, and in some ways, it's more binding than even in Runa.

"Generally, people here don't marry for love or even to simply form connections; they may even spend their entire life with one person and never marry them, or marry someone and openly have intimate relationships outside of that marriage. If the sovereign takes a spouse, it's usually done solely for the good of the country, which will then have not one ruler, but two. Because of the great potential for discord and civil wars, it's not a matter to be taken lightly – my mother trusts the high marshal, but she doesn't trust the people who would support him. Besides, at the moment, Salea has no need for a king."

Tiir supposed the whole concept should seem more strange to him, but while intellectually, he knew that this was not how humans usually did things, he'd never mixed with them for long enough to have gotten much of an impression of these matters.

Intrigued against his better judgment, he asked, "They've been together for long?"

"Since before I was born. In fact, though no one speaks of it in public, he's generally assumed to be my father."

"Is he?"

The prince shrugged. "I wouldn't know – Mother never said. She might not even be sure herself."

Tiir blinked at the man. "That doesn't bother you?" He would never claim to understand humans, but if there was one thing about them beyond their vile nature he thought he knew, it was that they were deeply concerned with parentage. They instilled the value they placed on having a 'mother' and a 'father' in many of his comrades, and though Tiir tried to see where his friends who had been lied to for most of their lives were coming from, this was one of the things he could not relate to, no matter how hard he tried. To him, there was something almost funny about how while even those of his comrades who had been raised by humans would often barely bat an eye at the fact that the inferior creatures were nothing but food to him once they had accepted the truth, learning that his 'mother' had been no exception always seemed to come as somewhat of a shock to them. But though it made Tiir want to throw back his head and laugh, most of the time he barely managed to look his friends in the eye as he smiled instead and changed the topic.

The prince hardly slowed his step. "Not particularly. I can't deny I'm _curious_, but not more than that. In Salea, blood isn't important. A child belongs to the one, or the ones, who raised it – everything else is secondary. Commoners can't hold certain positions in the court, but if they've been adopted by a noble, that rule becomes void as they no longer count as such. I think it used to be similar in Roland, if only on the surface – from what I hear, they still value blood ties more." The human looked up at the sky. "I like High Marshal Gareyn well enough, but finding out that I share his blood wouldn't make him any more or less of a parent to me."

Tiir considered this. He supposed it explained how the man had so easily accepted Tiir's relation to the children... rather than made a comment about how monsters apparently live in packs, like Gastark had.

He decided to drop the topic. To begin with, there was hardly anything humans did that _wasn't_ unfathomable to him.

"Who is Lady Livarys?"

The prince coughed. "She's... a friend." Apparently, he was planning to leave it at that. Tiir kept his gaze fixed on him, making it clear that he was waiting for an actual answer. Finally, the human relented. "She's High Marshal Gareyn's adopted daughter," he all but sighed. "I first met her when I was twelve. She was almost three years older than me. I kind of... _liked_ her."

A pause. "Let's just say that I was not very subtle about it – her friends thought it was cute, half the court thought it was hilarious, and after Livarys eventually took pity on me and told me that I was sweet, but that she wasn't interested, my sister repeatedly compared me to a lost puppy. She did so in front of Lymeia, who still calls me that on occasion. Two years ago Livarys and I got reacquainted at a ball, and we've been friends ever since. There – you now know about one of the most embarrassing episodes of my entire life. Congratulations."

Tiir marveled at how ordinary the story seemed. It felt strange, interacting with a human like this.

And suddenly he was painfully aware that this wasn't how he had wanted the conversation to go; but he forced down his dismay, telling himself that it didn't look like the human would mind further inquiries into what he considered public matters in the future, and that there was nothing else about this worth worrying about.

So he caught the prince's gaze and nodded gravely. "Human mating behavior," he said with a straight face. "Pitiful business. I wonder if the point is that you'll go extinct all by yourself eventually."

Next to him, the human choked and stopped walking. "Yes, _I_'ll go extinct. I hear others of my kind are managing just fine – but thanks for rubbing salt into the wound. I'm sure _you_ are a true ladies' man." Tiir had no idea what to say to that – he'd never had the time for that kind of thing, or much of an opportunity, or even an interest –, but before he could try to think of an appropriate reply, the prince peered at him. "Then again, with those looks, I wouldn't be surprised. The world just isn't fair."

...Had the human just told him that he found him _attractive_?

"What?" the prince asked. "You're allowed to comment on the texture of my brain, but if I voice the obvious, you look at me strangely?" The human paused, and leaned in a little closer. "Wait, are your eyes blue? I thought they were black."

Tiir blinked at him. "Do you have a point?"

"Not really." The royal stepped back. "But ugh, even your eyes are pretty. No wonder you won't get off your high horse. I bet you just have to smile at people and they swoon at your feet – or run from you screaming, but that's another matter."

"Did you honestly just inform me that you consider my eyes to be _pretty_?"

"Did you honestly tell me that my brain tissue looks 'appetizing'? You have no right to sound so disturbed, really. At least I don't want to _eat_ you."

Tiir sniffed. "I've since told you that I wouldn't touch your head with a ten foot pole."

"No, just my spleen. Would you rather I complimented your nose?"

"What?" Tiir swore that if the human thought his nose was _pretty_, he would do something drastic.

The prince coughed. "Never mind. Let's talk about something that is actually _less_ awkward than persistent silence." A pause. "So. Do you like chocolate cake?"

Tiir stared at the human, and slowly shook his head in wonder. "Not with a ten foot pole," he resolved anew.

The prince laughed.

x x x

For once, the prince wasn't reading official-looking documents while waiting for the Council meeting to begin, but a book. It appeared fairly plain, but whatever it contained, it seemed to be utterly captivating, for the human didn't even notice when his giant wiping cloth of a dog jumped onto the bed and proceeded to drool all over it. Tiir didn't bother to inform him, either – he had resumed sleeping on the floor the previous night, and he intended to keep doing so.

When the prince finally became aware of the animal's ventures, cushion and covers were already sufficiently wet. He scowled at it. "Truffles! Down!"

The creature in question just wagged its tail happily.

"Bad dog," the human said, but without much emphasis.

"Even your pet thinks you are beneath it," Tiir couldn't resist saying.

"Lord Truffles also thinks urinating at trees is the highest of activities, so I'm not sure that says much." The prince got up and gave the dog a shove, and it reluctantly returned to the floor, throwing the human a reproachful look before lying down again, this time to the man's feet.

Tiir snorted.

"You know," the prince said, returning to the desk and picking the book back up, "I figured Gastark was creepy, but I swear I'll never set foot in that country. Have you ever concerned yourself with their religious beliefs?"

Tiir narrowed his eyes. "Why should I?"

"Because their mythology is kind of nuts and I'm beginning to wonder if that means anything. To start with, they have those goddesses and you'd think they'd be benign since they are about the only deities mentioned anywhere in their religious and historical texts, but at least officially they don't worship them, and then they have stories that would make you assume those goddesses are either _not_ benevolent, or they're just extremely incompetent. I remembered reading one in particular that sent shivers down my spine – recommended to me by, who would have thought, Lymeia, the Queen of Questionable Taste –, and I just found it again. To be fair, I'm sure it's not the original version, and I don't think it's very well-known by the general populace, either, but it still gives me the creeps, especially since it's written somewhat like a fairy tale. Oh, but there's one good thing about it: it involves people getting eaten!"

Tiir gave the man a _look_.

The prince coughed. "All right, sad attempt at humor, I get it. Anyway, it goes somewhat like this: there was a Black Hero who fought against the entire world, who finally went mad. Therefore, the Goddesses sealed him away far in the South.

"However, in their great wisdom, they had forgotten to consider that there was already someone living in that region: the Lonesome Devil, who was – let me quote –, 'hideous and ever so lonely, so lonely that he seemed to be dying'. The Hero, wanting to get back to fighting against the world and probably smelling delicious brain tissue, asked the Lonesome Devil to let him eat half of his body – because come on, that's a perfectly reasonable request to make! The Lonesome Devil told him to go ahead and that it was no big deal, because the Hero was his first friend ever." A pause.

"And perhaps also because the Goddesses were assholes," the human finally added. "My theory was that they simply liked sealing people away in Nowhere and just couldn't keep track of them all, but Malyrei suggested that perhaps they didn't look at hideous things out of principle and therefore had never noticed the guy. She was strangely interested in this considering it doesn't have anything to do with magic – though I guess her idea of entertainment isn't much less bizarre than Lymeia's when it comes down to it. Anyway.

"The devil called All Formulas was split into the Solver of All Formulas and the Weaver of all Formulas, and the latter was devoured by the Black Hero. The Hero went back to happily breaking the world into pieces, but at its core, he found despair, pain, loneliness and Hell itself – 'and darkness and darkness and darkness and darkness'. Realizing that he was going to die before he could destroy the world for good, he begged to have someone bear the pain in his stead. Of course, it was the Lonesome Devil who volunteered, offering the other half of his body, and once the deed was done, he suffered in the Hero's place for all eternity.

"'The Lonesome Devil didn't regret it much at all'," the prince read out, "'because he had made a friend, even if just for a moment. Because he was able to live for his friend, even if just for a moment. The Lonesome Devil is a fool – a fool until the very end.'"

Tiir had no idea what the point of the tale was, but he had to admit, it did make his toes curl.

"What I find most interesting about this, though," the human said, closing the book and setting it down in front of himself, "is that there exist stories originating from the South in Salea's libraries about heroes who fought an army of demons that had been terrorizing humanity. To do this, they used weapons that sound a lot like Rule Fragments. And then there are texts that link the Alpha Stigma to those demons - while others link it to the Lonesome Devil."

Tiir looked at the human sharply.

"It could just be coincidence," the human said with a shrug. "But Gastark's lore also deals with the Rule Fragments, and it _is_ strange how much information they have on the Magic Eyes when pretty much no one else can even tell an Alpha Stigma from an Iino Doue."

"Are you implying the Alpha Stigma is _demonic_?" Tiir spat.

"I'm not implying anything," the human replied easily. "Even if there was some truth to them, I'm well aware those stories are myths – the demons could just be a metaphor, or the author could have added them to make the story more dramatic. And even if the demons and the Goddesses were both real, and the demons had something to do with the Lonesome Devil, then the Lonesome Devil would be proof that the demons can't be all bad, right? The true villain could as well be the Goddesses... or the Hero, who seems like he might originally have been human. Lymeia even mentioned something about versions like that of the story existing, though I don't quite recall."

Tiir wasn't wholly pleased with the flippant clarification, as the human most certainly _had_ implied that it was somehow difficult to tell the different kinds of Divine Eyes apart from each other, like the issue wasn't that his wretched kind couldn't even be bothered. However, taken aback by the prince's assessment nonetheless, Tiir considered the man's words more carefully. There was probably nothing to be learned from this, whatever truth the stories might once have had already distorted by the humans who had kept them in circulation, but if according to legend, the Alpha Stigma had originally been the power of the existence called Lonesome Devil, then that myth indeed fit all too well as a metaphor, at least. Bearers of the Divine Eyes devoting themselves to humans, being betrayed, having their eyes stolen.

No wonder the tale had left a bad taste in his mouth.

In an instant, he was next to the human, picking up the book.

"You can read?" the prince asked, sounding astonished.

Tiir shot him a glare.

"Ugh, that didn't come out right. Sorry. I just assumed that since you prefer not to get involved with humans... but that was stupid of me, wasn't it? You must have your own schools."

"We manage," Tiir returned curtly. They did not have schools (what did the human think, that they had an entire country hidden somewhere?), but they _did_ do their best to give the children an education. Some of his comrades even spent their free time with literature, though Tiir himself tried to avoid anything written by humans – the only non-practical bound texts he had touched before this were fairy tales he had reluctantly read to the children.

He decided the human appeared earnest enough, and turned his attention to the book, which seemed to contain fantastic stories from all over Menoris. Many of them actually _were_ fairly tales, with captured princesses and brave heroes – he even came across one with a talking horse –, and if they were anywhere as grotesque as the one he had just heard, then it wasn't apparent at first glance. It didn't take him long to find the tale from Gastark, and the prince, whose summary turned out to have been fairly accurate, waited patiently while he read over it for himself.

"It's obvious the Black Hero is the villain," Tiir declared as he put the book back down. His eyes became slits. "For using the Lonesome Devil."

The human threw him a curious glance. "At the very least, he doesn't sound like a nice kind of guy," he agreed. "Though it's probably worth remembering that he supposedly went mad before he and the Lonesome Devil even met. And that this story originates from Gastark, which just so happens to be the most northern country – even if they don't worship the Goddeses, they could have wanted to make them look good for propaganda reasons. Provided they even existed in some form, of course, but _something_ about this feels just a bit too real, and then I find it suspicious that even though the Goddesses aren't portrayed in a bad light for sealing the Hero away and were supposedly trying to save the world, they apparently completely overlooked the Lonesome Devil... and how at the same time, the story refers to both him and the Hero as 'monsters'."

_Just who are the real monsters here?_ Tiir remembered his own words with a sudden chill.

He shook off the memory and snorted. "What did you expect from Gastark?"

"I don't know," the human said. "_Non_-religious fanaticism maybe? A bit of variety would be nice, at least. Having theological discussions with that priest from Runa was bad enough." He fell silent for a moment, then conceded, "Though I suppose that has little to do with the theology part and all to do with the fanaticism part. Still, have you ever tried arguing with one of those people when you have to rely entirely on worldly observations? Salea so needs a state religion again if this goes on." The human suddenly snapped his fingers. "That's it! Finally, I know what I will do once I become King. I will have another, even more awe-inspiring temple built, in which people shall worship the most magnificent of all beings – the Great Cat. No doubt my sister would volunteer for High Priestess!"

Tiir tried not to stare.

Eventually, he said, "I'm sure Gastark will tremble in fear."

"They should," the prince said with a nod. "Anyway," he went on after a moment, "I'll look into this – the stories might just be stories, after all, but if there's a connection between them and Gastark's interest in the Cursed Eyes, that would be good to know."

"Divine."

The human blinked at him. "What?"

"_Divine_ Eyes," Tiir said sharply. "They're not _cursed_."

"Ah. My apologies." A pause. "Wait, divine? As in..." The human waved his hand elaborately. "Divine?"

Tiir decided to ignore the intelligent phrasing of the question. "Yes," he said. He wasn't going to say anything more on the matter.

Narrowing his eyes, he waited for the human's mockery.

Once more, the prince blinked at him. "This is part of the 'humans are but inferior creatures' thing, isn't it?" he asked. Then, to Tiir's surprise, he grinned brightly. "Oh, this is perfect! Who needs an almighty cat when there are sublime red-glowing eyes around? Have you ever thought about founding a cult?"

"...What?"

"Come on, it would totally piss Gastark off! And just think about the possibilities – humans all over the continent would become susceptible to your cause. You could create an army of religious fanatics!"

"Are you finally acknowledging your pitiful species' inferiority?" Tiir inquired, managing to sound bland rather than bewildered or amused. "I'm impressed. I didn't believe you capable of that amount of rational thought."

"No, actually, it's all part of my evil master plan: if you're too busy converting people to eat them, that gives me time to convince you that not only can humans be useful, we're not all assholes, either! I'd still support your cult, though. Maybe we could include cats somewhere." The human nodded to himself.

Tiir decided the man was just strange, and that there really was no point in trying to figure him out.

"I should probably get going," the prince said. "You'll be all right?"

"Yes." That was to say, if the magician kept her mouth shut and minded her own business. Otherwise, the next few hours weren't going to be pleasant.

He would live, though.

"Good," the human said. "Hopefully, this will be the last one of those meetings."

Tiir didn't comment, but as far as this matter was concerned, he and the human were in complete agreement. With every day that passed, he was missing the children more, and he had to force himself not to think about them too much – because whenever he did, worry rendered him unable to breathe, and rage he couldn't afford to indulge in made his blood boil.

x x x

The magician entered just a moment after the prince stepped out of the door – apparently, she had already been waiting. Tiir wasn't surprised.

She sat down at the desk, looking more relaxed than the soldier had, but Tiir wasn't fooled. If the admiral had been a guard dog dutifully following the orders of its master, the half-Gastark woman was a snake ready to strike. Her eyes were trained on him, frosty, unblinking, and her right hand was resting on her belt in a manner that would have seemed casual if not for the accursed weapon placed right next to it.

Tiir seated himself opposite of her on the floor – although he would have preferred to remain standing in the mage woman's presence, the less she viewed him as a threat, the better.

The magician didn't even twitch, and when she kept gazing at him with a face unmoved as that of a stature, Tiir firmly quashed the desire to taunt her like he had the soldier. He knew better than to invoke her wrath.

Instead, he watched the dog, who looked like it desperately wanted to go over and greet the woman, but didn't quite dare. Apparently, there was a human the animal respected, after all.

Tiir suppressed a snort.

When he returned his attention to the magician, he found that the woman had picked up the book the prince had left lying on his desk. "And here I thought he had forgotten about it," she said, her eyes still fixed on Tiir. "You two didn't happen to have a chat about this, did you?"

Tiir didn't reply, and she nodded, letting the book slide from her hand back onto the desk. "Well, I won't blame you for humoring him. As long as you don't forget your place."

He resisted the urge to hold her gaze in a wordless challenge, and instead forced himself to glance away.

"Come here," the human ordered after a moment.

Tiir looked back at her in surprise, but after an instant slowly got up. He approached her not without wariness, but knew that whatever it was she wanted, refusing her would be more dangerous than doing her bidding.

"So," the magician said when he came to a halt in front of her, "what did you do that Admiral Arsan repeatedly asked me to convince His Highness to get rid of you?"

Tiir froze, then shook himself and narrowed his eyes. "He didn't say?"

"You're not supposed to ask questions, but answer them," the human informed him coolly.

Tiir regarded her, trying to appear unconcerned although he was trapped and they both knew it. He had no doubt the magician was well aware of what had transpired between him and the soldier – even if the man had been under orders to not speak of the incident, which Tiir wasn't so sure about, he wouldn't have been vague enough in making his request that she wouldn't be able to fill in the blanks.

Tiir inwardly cursed him, the half-Gastark magician and his own carelessness. Why had he even done what he had?

Because he hadn't expected any consequences? He knew better than that. To cover up his weakened state? The man would never have guessed, anyway – and it wouldn't have mattered even if he had. Because mocking the human had given him a sense of normalcy he had desperately needed?

Pathetic.

In the end, he remained silent. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't make things worse.

"Well," the woman said, "at least you don't have the audacity to try and worm your way out of this."

She raised her hand, and Tiir tensed.

The magician scoffed. "My Prince asked me to feed you, not skewer you. Closer – I'd hate to burn down the royal chambers."

Carefully concealing his surprise, Tiir took a step forward.

The human fired her magic at him without further ado, and he was startled by the power behind the spell – it wasn't a great amount, exactly, but enough that being confident it wouldn't destroy any of the furniture in the process of being absorbed required a degree of precision Tiir hadn't expected her to possess, despite everything. She really _was_ a very skilled magician... for a human.

He allowed himself to enjoy the unexpected meal for the duration of a heartbeat and then quickly let the red fade from his eyes. For once, doing so didn't take much willpower – he hadn't run low on energy yet, though he supposed it wouldn't have been much longer with his body still recovering from whatever illness he'd had.

The magician was watching him intently, but Tiir noted that her right hand was still resting next to, not atop of her weapon. It irked him more than he would have thought.

"I hear you conducted yourself perfectly at the Council meeting," she said, "so I will overlook your insolence this once. Consider yourself warned, though: I don't care what my Prince lets you get away with, you will _not_ disgrace him in front of his subjects."

Biting his tongue, Tiir inclined his head.

"Glad we have an understanding." She smiled a small, satisfied smile he would have liked to wipe off her face – preferably by ripping off her head –, and motioned for him to get back to his end of the room.

For once, Tiir was happy to oblige her.

The rest of the evening passed, surprisingly, without incident. The magician went back to feigning indifference to his presence, and Tiir returned the courtesy. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the human amusing herself first by finally acknowledging the dog's presence, and later by half-heartedly petting the female cat when it came in to inspect the visitor.

He knew the magician was watching him just as carefully as he was watching her, but as long as he didn't have to talk to her – or worse, listen to her talking –, he was content to act like she didn't exist.

After what couldn't have been more than three hours, the prince poked his head through the door. "You both still alive?" he asked cautiously.

The magician scoffed. "What do you suppose I did to it – eat it?"

"Well..."

The woman snorted. "You can keep your pets," she said, getting up. "I have no interest in them whatsoever." Walking over to the royal who was now closing the door behind himself, she asked, "Did you achieve your goal?"

The prince grinned. "If by that, you mean: 'did the highly venerable members of the Council finally give in and rid me of themselves for at least the next two weeks?', then yes, I achieved my goal all right."

Tiir pushed down his own anticipation at the news and kept his attention on the humans' conversation with some effort.

"Good," the mage woman said. "I was afraid I'd have to waste another evening looking after your animals."

One day, Tiir _would_ kill her.

"Lymeia...," the prince began, but the magician interrupted him.

"Speaking of pets," she said. "You do realize your cat is expecting, don't you?"

Tiir blinked.

So did the prince. Then he stared. "What? But... why- how-"

"I don't _really_ have to explain that to you, do I?" the woman asked dryly. "After more than a year of training as a healer, that would not just be sad, but downright pathetic."

The young royal spluttered. "I was going to ask 'how do you know?'" he finally managed. "Not how... that!"

"That," the magician repeated. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but I believe you are not yet old enough to be having this conversation. If you'd excuse me..." She inclined her head, and left without waiting for a reply.

The prince stared at the door she had so nonchalantly shut in his face, mouth agape. "She's... she's..."

"A human?" Tiir suggested helpfully.

"Evil!"

"That's what I said."

The prince turned to him, finally closing his mouth. "All right," he agreed after a moment. "She's human, you're impossible, and I'm an individual whose sister's cat is apparently pregnant!" He started pacing. "What do I do?"

"Take a deep breath, realize it's not _you_ who is pregnant but the cat, and calm down?"

The human _glared_ at him.

Tiir smirked at him briefly, but then shifted his attention to the cat who was slowly making its way towards him. He carefully scratched it behind the ears, and curiously watched it climb onto his lap a moment later. Nothing about it seemed different, but then again, it might already have been with young when he had first laid eyes on it.

"No, really," the human said. "What do I do? When Malyrei finds out, she will go around proclaiming that 'Her Majesty' is pregnant!"

Tiir blinked. "Are you serious?"

"I wish I wasn't," the prince said. "Once, when Mother was late for a banquet, she went about telling the story of how 'Her Majesty' had been attacked by a vicious dog twice her size. The only reason the whole thing didn't end in a panic was that she wouldn't let anyone leave before she was done, and after ten minutes or so would always finish with, 'and then she chased it off and ate the head of the freshly killed mouse she had been so bravely defending'. Most people drew the right conclusions, the rest... well, I'll admit their faces were hilarious."

Amused despite himself, Tiir snorted.

The human grinned at him, then apparently caught himself and shook his head. "But I'm forgetting the most important thing – sorry. As promised, I talked to my mother right after the meeting. You'll be able to see one of the children in five days."

Tiir froze.

He hadn't expected a concrete time-frame just yet, and suddenly, he wasn't sure what he felt anymore.

There was elation, certainly. But his heart was also clenching painfully, worry and fear making it hard to actually be _happy_ about the information he had received.

He had been concerned about the little ones all this time, but he had also allowed the human's words to put his mind at ease more than once. If he had been lied to, if his captor had just been making a fool of him...

"Is something wrong?" the human asked, stepping over to him and looking quite troubled. "Was it something I said?"

Tiir regarded him for a long, drawn-out moment, and finally decided that the man probably wasn't trying to deceive him – putting on such a convincing act once or twice was one thing, doing it non-stop for half a fortnight another.

More importantly, though, it would be completely without _sense_ – no less so than the notion of a human who was almost tolerable. Tiir would find out the truth within days, and even if the human thought he could continue to hide it from him infinitely, Tiir still couldn't see how it would benefit him. Going to such lengths just for the sake of cruelty would be an unnecessarily long-winded approach, and Tiir couldn't imagine why someone who had nothing to gain from it that he couldn't get in a simpler way would be willing to go through with it, why even a human who _was_ foolish enough to think he could make Tiir trust him and hoped to get something out of it would act like this one.

Tiir had never doubted that he could recognize humanity's loathing for his kind from miles away, never mind after spending day after day in its company. He knew perfectly what hatred and resentment looked like, what it meant to wish for someone to suffer, and this wasn't it.

Of course, being a human, the prince's idea of the little ones being 'just fine' was unlikely to have much in common with his, but not for a second had Tiir expected that there would be no damage done. Like this, though, if it turned out that there was something severely wrong with the children and he still couldn't think of a way to safely get them away from the humans, instead of doing something radical that was more likely to get them killed than out of the enemy's reach, maybe he could talk to the man. As difficult as it was for Tiir to comprehend, at least for now the human really didn't seem to want Ren and Karda harmed.

"Nothing's wrong," Tiir told the prince calmly and went back to petting the by now dozing cat. "I was just thinking."

"Oh," the human said, not looking entirely convinced, but quick to return to the original topic of conversation. "The point of rendezvous will be a clearing about two hours from here," he went on. "We'll depart in the late evening. Aside from me, only Lymeia and one other person will be coming along on our side – perhaps Admiral Arsan, but that's not certain yet."

Tiir held the human's gaze for a moment longer, then glanced away. "Will I be allowed to speak with them?"

"Of course," the prince assured him. As what appeared to be an afterthought, he added, "Though I'm afraid I won't be able to give you much privacy."

Tiir snorted softly. "I didn't expect you to." Fixing his gaze on the human again, he asked, "What if they let something slip?"

"They're children," the prince said. "We won't hold them responsible for acting accordingly. There's not much they _could_ let slip to begin with, and while they'll be told not to reveal certain things, it's no big deal even if we should feel they've said too much. The child staying behind will always be brought to a different location beforehand, so at worst, they'd both end up having to resettle. They would still be treated well, but I do believe they are best off where they currently are, so perhaps you could try to avoid talking about geography." The human winked at him.

"Pretty much everything else is fair game," the man continued. "They don't know the real name of the person looking after them, and you may as well know she's female. Her occupation isn't at all unusual in Salea, so that's not an issue, either." He smiled at Tiir. "Just relax and don't worry about that kind of thing too much."

Easy for the human to say – still, Tiir did feel some of his anxiety dissipate. The prince seemed to have put a lot of thought into the matter, and his considerations appeared to go beyond simply wanting to make sure Tiir would stay put.

He tried to remind himself that he was only setting himself up for betrayal if he believed even a single word out of a human's mouth, but at the same time knew it was already too late for that. If he were to question the man's every action, it would drive him mad.

Gods, he wanted home.

But even if he returned to his comrades, it would never be the same, would it? Lafra was gone, and so were too many others. Tiir was sick of it – disgusted by his own weakness.

"Tiir?"

The sound of his own name startled him, and he looked at the human in surprise. Despite having asked his permission to do so days ago, it was the first time the prince had addressed him this way.

"If there's something the matter, you know you can talk to me, right?" the royal asked with a concerned frown. "I know we can't be friends, but I do care."

Now that was enough to distract Tiir from his bleak contemplations. He blinked at the human, certain that he hadn't heard correctly. "What?"

"Well," the prince began slowly, "I know you hate me and all, but I respect how far you're willing to go for your siblings, and I do enjoy conversing with you. Besides," he added with a grin, "you're the first person to ever compliment my brain tissue. That has to count for something, right?"

Tiir knew he was giving the human the oddest look, but he couldn't have cared less.

"Er," the prince said, suddenly flustered. "Never mind. I really don't think before I talk. Just... if something is bothering you, even if it's something I wouldn't be able to do anything about, I could at least listen." A pause. "If you want."

Tiir took a deep, shaky breath. He wished the human would stop doing this. Why did he have to be so confusing?

Not that he wanted the man to start acting exactly the same as the rest of his kind – as things stood, that would be disastrous –, but couldn't he behave a bit less like... like someone who _mattered_? Tiir was beginning to feel that attempting to make the royal suffer for his actions would not only be unwise or pointless, but wrong.

It was ridiculous. He was a human. Even if he wasn't unnecessarily cruel, when it came down to it, Tiir and the children were just tools to him. If they ever stopped being useful, he would have them killed in the blink of an eye.

Maybe not all humans enjoyed causing his kind pain, but in the end they still feared them, used them, held them in contempt. In the end, it was still a fact that there could never be peace between their races.

"I don't," Tiir said sharply, causing the cat to jump and run off with an indignant hiss.

The human flinched, but for once, Tiir couldn't derive any pleasure from the sight. Still, he refused to feel guilty – why should he care about the feelings of the enemy who was holding him captive?

The look of hurt disappeared from the prince's features almost as quickly as it had come, leaving behind an expression that lacked emotion. "I'm sorry," the man said, strangely formal. "I spoke foolishly. Please forget I said anything."

The prince turned from him without waiting for a reply, and walked towards his garderobe.

It didn't feel like simply a prematurely ended conversation. Something had shifted in their relationship, and not for the better.

Tiir fought down panic. This was bad. He should just have kept his mouth shut – and now of all times.

But he hadn't thought this, of all things, would be what crossed the line.

"Wait," he said hurriedly. The prince halted, but instead of facing him, he just looked over his shoulder in askance.

Tiir forced out the words before they could choke him, "I didn't mean to offend you."

The prince stared at him in confusion for a moment – then he gave a short, brittle laugh. It was a reaction Tiir found rather unsettling.

Finally, the human turned around. "You're worried you hurt my pride and I'm going to be an ass about it, aren't you? I should have taken more care not to give a wrong impression – again, I apologize. It's not like that. I just realized I wasn't conducting myself appropriately, and that I should keep my distance from now on."

Tiir bit his tongue – that was exactly what he had been afraid of; or at least, part of it. He wanted the human to stop pretending to care, but he also wanted to be able to discuss the treatment of the children with him. Like this, though, any attempt to do so would hardly get him anywhere – he didn't have anything left to bargain with.

"That's what I should have done from the beginning," the prince continued, and Tiir balled his fists. "It's not fair of me to expect you to act like I'm anything but the one keeping you prisoner, away from your family, your people. I didn't even realize how arrogant I was being."

...Wait, what?

The human was giving him a lop-sided smile now. "Of course, whenever you feel like commenting on my intestines, feel free to do so. I'd be delighted."

All right, that was it. Tiir would never understand this human. "Don't you think that if talking to you bothered me, I wouldn't have?"

The prince stared at him. "Well, I just thought..."

Tiir narrowed his eyes. "That I was trying to curry favor?"

"What? No – nothing like that!" The human looked positively horrified by the assumption. "I just... I don't know what I thought, all right? You're obviously not walking on eggshells around me, but I'm not sure you'd tell me to piss off and go bother someone else, either. Clearly, you're worried about setting me off – and who wouldn't be?" Raking a hand through unruly locks in frustration, the man declared, "This whole situation is just so fucked up."

Tiir regarded him.

So that was the problem? The human had trouble reading him?

Tiir wanted to laugh at the irony.

"In that case," he said instead, moving in front of the human in an instant, "explain yourself." His voice was almost a hiss. "Tell me why I shouldn't expect you to change your mind at any moment. Despite all your pretty words, at the end of the day, we're just monsters to you, aren't we? Monsters who devour lives, monsters who could go out of control any second, monsters who might be useful now but won't be forever. Why bother feigning concern when we both know you can hardly wait to wash your hands of us?"

The prince was staring at him with wide eyes, and Tiir was already beginning to wonder if he might have frozen in fear, after all, when the man's expression suddenly changed. "You're wrong," he said, the soft tone of his voice a sharp contrast to the way Tiir had addressed him. "I don't think of you as monsters. I never should have – believing rumors and myths without question isn't what I was raised to do. It's true that I'm using you, but that's because I believe it's necessary for the sake of my country. I'm not proud of it, but there's no going back now, and if it's for Salea, for my loved ones and my people, I'm willing to go this far."

"You think your people care who rules them that much?" Tiir scoffed. "They'd probably prefer Gastark over a war that is likely to get them all killed."

"They wouldn't," the prince said, calmly and without hesitation. "Maybe if my mother backed down willingly, but she won't, and neither will I. Not from Gastark."

"Isn't that just an excuse?" Tiir asked, not even trying to hide the scorn in his voice. "What does Gastark matter to _you_?"

The prince gave him a wry smile. "They matter – because they are willing to sacrifice too much. Even if their intentions turned out to be as noble as they claim, someone who starts war after war, who conducts the kind of experiments Lymeia believes would have been necessary to learn about the Magic Eyes in such detail, who creates crystal after crystal when it's so obvious you suffer just like humans do, is not someone I will ever let lay hands on this country if I can help it.

"I know Gastark's King is hailed as a hero by his people, and I'll admit he doesn't sound like a bad ruler by most standards, but even if it turns out to be true that he's not just interested in conquest, I wonder what he could be thinking. A king willing to kill his heart and wade through a sea of blood to reach his goal might be able to create peace, but he won't be able to maintain it – because those who witness his actions will always remember that if push came to shove, he would sacrifice them, and their friends, and their families, and everything they care about in an instant. The idea of serving something bigger than oneself can support a soldier in battle, but it will never be enough replace people's every day lives. That's what I believe."

It sounded nice, and like something that had been spoken in earnest. It also sounded like the foolish belief of a foolish human who failed to consider that killing each other to achieve their goals was all his abominable kind ever did.

Perhaps because he hadn't managed to keep his lips from twisting in disdain, before Tiir could decide whether he wanted to bother pointing out something that was so obvious, the prince added, "Though I guess Lymeia might be right and that's just a fancy way of saying that I don't like his methods and don't trust him, so if you're asking why I think a war is preferable to trying our luck with him, the simplest answer would probably be that Salea is _not_ Gastark. Someone from such a vastly different culture shouldn't presume to subject us to his laws – like that could ever be a good thing rather than a disaster. Just breaking with minor traditions tends to be a very delicate matter this country that can get people killed; the last thing we need is outside interference in the form of _conquest_." The human crossed his arms, and holding Tiir's gaze finished, "Whatever way you look at it, Gastark's King can't have Salea because at the end of the day, this country and its people wouldn't mean anything to him."

Well, Tiir thought as he stared right back at the human, perhaps the man had thought about the issue for more than three seconds before deciding to throw so many of his own kind's lives away.

And though it was still foolish, still proof of how despicable humans were that they would kill each other over their arbitrary rules and customs, Tiir had to admit he wasn't unimpressed by the man's reasoning, or entirely unaffected by the conviction behind his words. From a human's standpoint, perhaps he _was_ doing what was necessary to protect his own.

Still...

"We're not your people, though," Tiir said, "so why would you care?"

"You may not be _my_ people, but you're still _people_. Why _wouldn't_ I care?"

"We don't even belong to the same _species_."

"So?" the human returned glibly. "I don't care about blood, so why should I care about whether someone has red-glowing eyes?"

"Or about whether someone could crush you in a heartbeat?" Tiir asked.

Strangely enough, this seemed to amuse the prince. "A whole lot of people could crush me in a heartbeat," he informed him, "and I'll take a guess and say that the vast majority of them does not have red-glowing eyes. My sister certainly doesn't." A snort. "Not that it stopped her from trying to eat me."

Tiir narrowed his eyes. "Would you take this _seriously_?" he all but snarled.

"I _am_ taking this seriously," the human retorted. "What I'm trying to say is: I'm not afraid of your powers."

"Then you're a fool."

"Am I? Fear can be useful, but I don't think there is anything particularly desirable about falling into a state of terror every time I encounter something that _could_ hurt me. I'd never be able to set a foot outside this room again. I don't fear your powers, and I certainly don't fear those children. I don't want you killed, or hate you, or even am indifferent to you."

The prince smiled at him, but it looked more like a grimace. "And yet, when it comes down to it, I'm just one more asshole human hunting you down because of your eyes. I suppose I'm no better than Gastark in this regard. Still, I won't go back on my word, since no matter how much I love this country, there are lines I'm not willing to cross – because that's not the kind of person I want to be, or the kind of king I would want to become. In fact, if the only way I saw to advance Salea's interests involved breaking my word and killing children who aren't hurting anyone, I'd take that to mean I'm probably not the kind of person this country needs in the first place."

Tiir considered the human. He _sounded_ convincing. In fact, he almost _made sense_, which was as off-putting as it was persuasive. Just for an instant, Tiir found himself enthralled by the prince's words, wanting not only to believe them, but to keep listening to them in hopes of finally figuring out the peculiar creature in front of him.

But the moment passed, and all that remained was the feeling of wary acceptance.

He stepped back, and decided that if only for the sake of his own sanity, he would content himself with the human's explanation for now.

Once more, the prince smiled at him, but although it looked a bit more heartfelt this time, his expression still seemed pained. Tiir could have told the man that he detested him nowhere as much as he detested Gastark, but he didn't see why he should bother. There was _nothing_ he detested as much as he did Gastark – it didn't erase the truth behind the royal's self-deprecating statement: he _was_ no better than Gastark, because he was a human, and that was a fact no amount of pretty words was going to change.

"Does it matter to you which one of the children you see first?" the prince asked suddenly.

Tiir blinked at him. He hadn't even thought about that.

_Did_ it? A part of him believed that Karda would be fairing better – they were both strong children, but Ren wouldn't take well to being shunned; he was too outgoing for that, too eager for others' approval. The humans might be careful not to cause the children lasting physical injuries, but for Ren, just being met with scorn could have similar effects. Karda was the more confident, practical one out of the two, and probably the kind of person less likely to succumb to despair while she had someone other than herself to look out for – but she was still a child, and it was impossible to tell how she would take having to live through so many catastrophes in such a short period of time, when she had only just been beginning to recover from the cruelties of her old life. And she was surrounded by _humans_, whose mere presence would be enough to terrify her.

Therefore, what Tiir eventually said was, "No, it doesn't."

If he was honest with himself, he was much too glad to be able to speak those words in good conscience – he didn't want to feel like he was putting one child over the other, or to make a decision only to find out later that he had been horribly wrong.

His own selfishness repulsed him, but he couldn't help it. He already couldn't forgive himself for having failed to protect them once.

_Twice_.

"All right," the prince said. "I'll leave that part to other people, then." He tilted his head. "Anything else that would need clearing up?"

When Tiir remained silent, the man nodded. "Just ask if you have any questions."

He turned around again, and this time, Tiir didn't stop him.

.

.

* * *

**Author's Note:** One day they will be on proper speaking terms and it will be glorious, I'm sure.

Or maybe they'll just spend all day talking about awkward things like Tiir's pretty eyes.

...And about how people should worship them. What did I write.

I had fun with Ecylan being clueless as to what's really going on in the world, even if discussing Gastark and the Goddesses in that context felt weird. (Yay for wild speculations! Originally I just wanted Tiir to have a go at this, but to get there I had to poke everything a little... and I have absolutely no excuse for the cat cult thing.)

And of course Tiir would think Sion sucks in all his quasi-incarnations - Team Lonesome Devil all the way! You just don't eat _your friends_, okay. it's the height of failiness. That's why you teach kids table manners. And if Tiir had realized what's going on in episode 18, so help him, he would have done it retroactively!

And Sion would have gone full troll mode on him. "Hmmm. Does this also go for half your friend? What about just a thigh? Oh, all right, but I wasn't being literal..."

No, I'm not writing crack fic in my head about why you should never lock Tiir, Sion and Ryner in one room together. Not at all.

Echem.

This chapter was difficult for me to revise mainly because more so than usual, I had to get Tiir's thought process to make sense without _actually_ making sense, if you know what I mean. I'm not sure how well I did at that, but at least I could re-read without wincing by the end, so I decided to just post it before I lost my nerve again and changed words back and forth for another week. Chapter 6 comes with the same problem, only worse, but it's shorter and... different, so I hope I'll manage to edit and upload it much quicker.

The title comes from "Live Free or Let Me Die" by Skillet this time. I wanted to go with another song at first, but that part just fit too well.

Next time we'll see: Tiir, uhm, not dealing so well with the situation and the lack of his usual coping mechanisms. But all's well so long as he can still rationalize things! Probably.

Till then!


End file.
